


Gods Higher Than Us

by 13atoms (2Atoms)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Banter, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Forgiveness, Post-Episode: The Timeless Children, Romance, The Fam are there, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/13atoms
Summary: The Master finds himself tragically alive. He's gasping for air, face pressed to the cold floor of yet another stolen TARDIS, as Gallifrey burns one last time. The Doctor had saved him once again, albeit against her better judgement.Before he knows it, she's gone. Their reunion cut short by the Judoon. Everything he's worked towards is gone, and all The Master knows is that he has to find her - if only to beg for forgiveness.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 126
Kudos: 333





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set-post The Timeless Children, following the destruction of the Cyber Time Lords.

When the smoke cleared, the Master couldn’t feel the disintegration of his flesh, the unsettling tingle of regeneration energy fruitlessly trying to heal him. No.

He felt the cold, hard floor pressed against his face.

Bright. White. An example of the most minimalist design those pretentious Time Lords could ever stomach. A TARDIS. In all of his destruction, he’d forgotten about the surviving TARDISes. Even those with less character than The Doctor’s must be mourning, struggling to heal the vicious severing of their connection to their kin and to their creators.

The floor under him was alive, he could feel it. Not in vibrations, but in telepathy. The TARDIS was still stationary, and he was grateful. Adrenaline was being sapped from his body, making him nauseous, and bone tired.

It was a feat of willpower, just to force himself to roll over. He stared towards the console, expecting to see it empty, controls unmanned, fire outside the open doors.

Instead, he was level with The Doctor’s calves, her boots stomping around the console as she desperately tried to pilot an off-the-shelf TARDIS, one which hadn’t been Frankenstein-ed beyond all recognition like her own. He almost smirked at her struggling, how she was ignoring him. Whether she knew he was awake or not, she wouldn’t give him a glance.

The Doctor hadn’t been a woman in so long, it had taken him a while to get used to.

He’d spent far too long appreciating this form of The Doctor, through their texting and separation he could almost pretend he was flirting with someone new. Without their history. Someone funny and pretty and clever, someone who actually knew and liked him.

Of course, that wasn’t true.

She hadn’t recognised him.

The gift that the Time Lord would always possess over her human pets was that he could still recognise her. Anywhere. Body to body, he’d never felt his complex jumble of feelings weaken or untangle. They were always there, hot and burning in each new pair of hearts, slammed behind deadlocked doors in his mind, always there.

Finally, she ship shuddered. The Doctor stepped back from the console, fixing him with a stare. After a moment’s thought she walked over to him, crouched close enough to check his hearts were still beating. She could feel he was alive, through the lightest tug in her mind, the twitch of his eyelashes as he squinted up at her. Nonetheless, her hands crept across his chest to check his hearts beating. To comfort herself.

“How did you save me?”

His voice was weak, drained. It was barely above a rasp. The Doctor must have been listening telepathically, because she understood him.

“Didn’t. The TARDIS did. Hadn’t even realised you were here, actually. Sneaky things, TARDISes.”

She was always a horrible liar. The Master laughed.

“Well. Cheers old girl.”

He patted the floor fondly, knowing damn well this ship had nothing to do with his rescue. Strictly speaking, he should probably stand up now, maybe run out the doors. Scare his old best enemy. Seize control of the ship. But he stayed. Every cell in his body was sapped of energy. His muscles would ache with the movement. Staying on the floor was easier.

Especially with her there, forehead lined with concern for him.

The Master had to admit, he revelled in it. In the way he could never out-scheme, out-murder, out-evil her concern. In Utilitarian terms, he was probably her greatest failing. Not The Time War. Not any other small, insignificant loss of life she’d caused or witnessed. Him. Her inability to kill him was her greatest weakness as all-important protector of the universe. From the pain The Doctor felt whenever he was around, The Master felt sure she knew.

“Koschei…”

“Drop me off anywhere, Doctor. I’ll see you in another hundred years.”

He knew his voice was breaking, even as he tried to sound arrogant and sure-footed. His vocal chords were still recovering from his shouting just a couple of hours ago. Back when he felt sure he was winning.

The Master forced himself to sit up, as though he might have enough energy to storm out of the TARDIS and survive whatever shitty, backwater planet The Doctor felt unworthy enough to leave him on. As usual, he’d probably have to kick about for a few hundred years until he could build some kind of space travel, until he’d become deranged enough to try and murder billions once again. It was a closed cycle. He knew the drill.

He had some dismal centuries coming up.

After The Doctor defeated him, but he knew what came next. Hollowness. Meaninglessness. A missing sense of identity. Weeks and weeks of being unable and unwilling to get out of bed. The pain and the overthinking.

It was the worst part of this ridiculous dance they did, this ridiculous life they led.

Regret was a fool’s game, but sometimes it crept up on him.

Still.

He should get going.

Get it over with.

With a painful thud, The Doctor joined him on the floor. Blonde hair covered his face as she flung two lanky arms around him, holding him tight in a sitting hug. The TARDIS wheezed as the engines moved, and he wanted to scold her for leaving the parking break on, even after all these years. Their teachers at the Academy had forever been telling her off over it forever.

Their journey was over before he could even open his mouth, and the disparate noise in the ship gave way to the sound of her sobs.

Sweet, mad, insecure, brilliant Theta.

Her coat was flung off somewhere, crumpled on the TARDIS floor, and her arms moved, snaked around his torso beneath his jacket. She felt warm, her hearts pounding against his own, straddling his lap to try and get as close to him as she could. It wasn’t comfortable, but The Master didn’t even notice as he pulled her flat to the floor with him, letting her whimper, laid across him.

It didn’t come as a surprise to feel himself crying too, somehow. Hot tears leaked from his eyes, soaked into her hair. While sobs made her chest heave, her whole body shake as she clung to him, The Master lay still. He hadn’t felt anything but rage for so long, since he’d burned down their home planet, found himself a dangerous, unfeeling ally in the cybermen. It _hurt_ to feel again.

Across their bond, he couldn’t decipher her feelings. Since childhood, he’d rarely misunderstood her. He’d always known what made her tick. But in this one moment, she didn’t even know herself.

He’d always considered it strange, the boundaries of their games. For him, it was a way to pass the time. Endless, boring time. The Doctor, however, had never seen his plots like they were games separate to their relationship. She rarely appreciated the puzzles and traps for what they were to him – a show of his cleverness. A game of chess with an unlimited move set. Maybe it was because she always won, usually with a few casualties, that she never formally drew a line between his plots and reality.

The stakes were too real to her.

She cared too much.

For The Master, though, it was over now. That game was finished, boring, defeated. They were done playing and now they could run back inside for dinner.

She never wanted to play with him again the next day.

Not unless he came up with something _clever_.

Clever and dangerous.

Secretly, deep down, he knew she got as much gratification from beating his games as he did in breaking her, in seeing her caught in one of his traps.

This time he’d gone too far.

They wouldn’t be allowed to play together again.

Even without the pain ripping through their bond, it hurt to see her like this. Broken. Happy-go-lucky was her signature in this body, and he hadn’t seen that in a while. He ached to make her feel better, to take back some of the pain, some of his harsh words. He wanted to take the memories out of her head.

It hurt him too.

That they weren’t the same anymore. She was so much more than him. She always had been.

It was like she’d known, even back in the academy days when The Doctor would scold him for being too harsh, too cocky, too cruel to their classmates even when it was funny. The Doctor had always been right. They were both outcasts, but she was more. She’d known that, deep down, somewhere.

After what he knew, the experiments he’d watched over and over again, sobbed and screamed as he saw in memory what she’d been through, he couldn’t find a shred of jealousy.

“I was so angry.”

“I could tell.”

She spat the words back at him, fingers curling into the skin of his torso through his shirt. Her short nails pinched him. That tiny, teaspoon of pain felt thoroughly deserved.

“I was angry for you.”

The Doctor still wouldn’t believe what he did was right. He could never hope for that. They operated differently, and they both knew that. His motives, though, she might understand.

There were no words of reassurance for him, he didn’t deserve them. Her weight above him was a comfort as he lay there, letting misery flow through him. For her. For him. For his failings. For their people. For her broken youth. For the answers he hadn’t been able to find for her.

Gallifreyan was rusty on their tongues, not that it mattered. They were the only people left alive who could speak it.

“What am I?”

“A better Time Lord than me, Theta.”

*

Their pilgrimage between ships was silent, barely acknowledging the dusty planet where she’d seen so much suffering. That familiar blue, so ubiquitous with The Doctor in his mind, always gave The Master chills. She let him aboard with no quibble, perhaps because she was aware of how broken he was. How badly he just wanted everything to _stop_.

He just wanted to sleep. To have a friend. To be absolved.

It brought a smile to his face, seeing her TARDIS and pilot reunited once again. How The Doctor greeted her second-oldest friend, her constant companion, that symbol of her freedom from their people. The Master gratefully found himself a spot to rest, to watched as The Doctor much more adeptly danced around the console of a familiar timeship. He was as bone-tired as him, and he couldn’t imagine how she was still on her feet.

As the ancient ship struggled with its parking brake once again, reckless driver caressing the console, he realised what it was. It was her rebellion. Her protest against what she’d been through, however subconscious.

Not quite genocide, he thought, but it was something.


	2. Chapter 2

He supposed he could have turned himself in, kept her company, when the Judoon materialised to take her away. The ship’s engines had stuttered roughly to a halt before the ship could dematerialise, and The Doctor spun around in horror, only to see The Master innocent. At the tell-tale sound of a short-range teleport, he’d ducked below the TARDIS floor, hiding amongst hanging wires which hadn’t seen organisation in years.

His impulse to be closer to her had nagged at him, telling him to declare himself, go with her. But her knew better. Instead, he stayed aboard the ship, just grateful her sentence hadn’t been execution.

He was more use here, on her ship, with a track on her and a fucking _time machine_.

That was the difference between them, he supposed. The Master loved a plan. The Doctor just pretended to have one, acted on her instincts. _He_ was all about the long game.

There were already co-ordinates in the console, certainly important to The Doctor. Frankly, though, he could _seriously_ use a sleep. He left the ship to refuel over a rift, seeing the tank recklessly low, before wandering off into the depths of the ship.

She was everywhere in this TARDIS, in the tiny Gallifreyan engravings on the walls and the tiny splashes of colour. Sure, the ship got the last say, but wasn’t there a saying about TARDISes and looking like their owners?

The ship tried to hide her room from him, it was a new one since he’d been here last, but she quickly relented. He couldn’t be tricked by twisting corridors and hidden doors like her human pets could.

Messy, he’d call it. She probably thought it was quite organised. Stacks of electronics and drawings of various bizarre diagrams littered a wall covered in workbench space, it’s opposite lined with bookshelves that were certainly not sorted in any sane way. As he inspected the room, he reshelved a few of the books left strewn across her floor and bed, flicking through the pages she’d left them open at. None of them were connected.

He threw his overclothes down where the books had been, knowing the ship would have them laundered by morning. Her bed was huge, larger than reasonable for such a lonely traveller. Each of the four posts had some non-sensical memento attached, a tassle made from some shimmering fabric, a sticker from an Earth festival, a scarf he recognised as his own from a previous incarnation. Flattering.

The odd ripped-out book page crumpled as he cocooned himself in her bed. The thick duvet smelt like her, distinctive in any form, and he smiled as he rolled onto his back. Even below the gorgeous constellation the TARDIS painted across her real ceiling, the roof of the bed was strewn with tiny plastic glow-in-the-dark stars. Always with the earth _stuff_.

She was so fascinated. He imagined how her face had lit up the first time she’d lay beneath the stars, in one of the most advanced pieces of technology in the known universe, he was certain The Doctor had laid grinning at arbitrary plastic shapes.

Maybe he’d go and find her humans after his sleep.

*

When he awoke, the TARDIS was fully recharged. She gave his mind a grateful nudge as he dressed, and he caught himself begrudgingly cheered up by the ship’s approval.

“Let’s go find your pilot, shall we?”

She helped him pilot a little, that ship of hers. He’d always been fond of her temperament. He let her telepathic encouragement guide him, feeling like instinct even as the controls were so _un-Time-Lord-like._

The co-ordinates The Doctor had been travelling to before she was taken felt like the next obvious lead. Unfortunately, he had an unpleasant feeling he knew exactly where they’d lead.

Still, extra hands would be welcome. Or extra targets for Judoon blasters. He could certainly outrun the old one. The Doctor would be pleased to see her pets, at any rate.

Plus, he needed to start earning forgiveness somehow.

The TARDIS peacefully arrived at a housing estate in north England, and he watched on the screens inside the ship as her human allies from Gallifrey exited a perfectly ordinary looking house. A TARDIS with a working chameleon circuit? He’d remember that for later. Time ships were in short supply, and himself and The Doctor were exceptionally good at breaking chameleon circuits.

The humans split into two groups after an exceedingly long and boring conversation, dividing into contemporary and future humans. He’d given up watching and eavesdropping - switched to swapping control handles around on the TARDIS console. The ship gave him an annoyed buzz at the back of his head, no doubt a scolding for how much worse than usual The Doctor would pilot her with the console all mixed around.

He got a kick out of it, at least.

To her credit, the ship did give him a warning seconds before the humans burst through the doors, a chorus of:

“Oh my god!”

“You’re alive!”

“Doc!”

Was quickly broken up by disappointment. Oh. It was him.

“You!”

He had to admit, he quite liked the girl. She was feisty. Had a bit of a thing for ‘O’, too, he reckoned. Shame she looked ready to attack him, now. She really was pretty.

He held up two hands, partly in warning, partly to be non-threatening.

“You needn’t worry, it’s just a game we play.”

The three of them stuttered like idiots, backing back down towards the ship’s doors.

“No, the Doc was scared! She was terrified! You tried to kill us all!”

“And her!”

“Where is she?”

He had to admit, he got a thrill from their fear. From hearing of The Doctor’s fear. He was surprised, though, to feel that buzz of excitement was quickly superseded by the thought of her rotting away in jail, forever. He wished they’d had more time to talk, for her to figure out what she had left after everything she’d seen. He owed her one escape from eternal imprisonment, he supposed.

“Listen…”

The TARDIS supplied him with names when he nudged her. _Thanks old girl._

“Ryan, Yaz, Graham,” they eyed him warily as he circled the console to greet them. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“Is she alive?”

Yaz was so fiercely protective of her Doctor, The Master wondered how much she truly knew about the Time Lord. Not much, clearly, if she was so sure The Doctor needed her defence.

“Yes. She’s in a Judoon prison.”

The two younger humans didn’t let down their guards, but he could see their relief, in their exhales and dropped shoulders. The other human, however…

“Those rhino things!”

He wondered if he could get a mental filter for Graham, avoid processing the old man’s words. How The Doctor coped, he had no idea.

Yaz ignored him too.

“Are you gonna get her out?”

Always with the right questions, Yaz.

“Duh. Close the doors behind you!”

He didn’t even wait for the doors to close, trusting the ships to do that herself, before he set the rotor moving. With a spin for _flourish_. The humans ran for railings and columns to grip, seemingly surprised when the ship barely moved on take-off.

Oh, Theta. Never change.

“Are we even moving?” Yaz frowned.

“Yu-up. You’re just in the presence of someone who passed their driving test.”

He enjoyed the glances the humans gave each other, clearly unable to tell if he was joking. They looked so nervous, it was endearing. Must be why The Doctor liked them so much. Someone to _dazzle_.

“Where we headed?” Ryan piped up, still clinging to a column like the ship was about to somersault.

“The prison your Doctor so carelessly got herself trapped in,” he spun around the console as he controlled the ship, rather enjoying the theatrics of flying with company. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

“Fine with me!” Graham shouted.

The Master could tell none of them really trusted him, especially as the ship finally, _finally_ , shuddered violently.

“Damn it. Force field.”

He tightened his grip on the console, determined they wouldn’t see him stumble. When the rocking of the ship stopped, the three of them were fixing him with glares.

“It’d be a bit daft if you could just teleport there, wouldn’t it mate?”

Rassilion, how did she not just _kill_ these humans? The Time Lords were less annoying, and they had more than one life.

“It’s not…”

He stopped himself. 21st century humans. Not worth the air to even try and explain. Simple terms. Short words. Come on, Master.

“I can get in,” he ground out, “but it’s… not ‘gonna be fun. It would be easier to make the short hop to the surface on teleports, then break her out. This asteroid is fully monitored and armed to the _teeth_.”

He looked around the console room, disappointed by its sparseness. No trunks, no secret cubby holes hidden under grates. It was new, he supposed.

“Weapons?”

The Master looked expectantly at the three humans, who were still clinging to the far edges of the console room. They all looked exhausted, he realised.

“The Doctor doesn’t use weapons.”

He laughed in their faces, loud and manic, making the humans flinch.

“Bullshit! This is a TARDIS!”

Ryan was nearest, and he frowned.

“What, you didn’t know?” There was a teasing to his voice, one he knew would upset the humans even more than shouting might. “It’s a warship.”

*

He’d told the humans to go and get some rest, before he scared the poor things to death. It was hard not to, they were so fragile. The TARDIS told him with dry amusement that they’d all requested locks on their doors. That had given him a chuckle, as he’d chuckled as he rifled through The Doctor’s armoury.

It was all old, junky, scavenged.

The original Gallifreyan weapons in there were certainly long destroyed, but a huge stash of illegal short-range teleports wasn’t hard to find. Perfect. They wouldn’t be blocked by the weaker interference shields on the far side of the asteroid. Those shields only stopped legal transport methods. The Judoon were so damn stupid.

He took four for himself, telling himself it was in selfishness, insurance, rather than the chance to play the hero if one of the humans’ broke. He would dangle the spares in front of them, a taunt, as he left them.

The thought of The Doctor’s face broke him out of that particular cruel fantasy.

He hoped she was okay in there. Alone.

_Contact._

He reached out through their bond, knowing he was close. He might even be able to see her prison if he leant out of the TARDIS doors far enough. They were as near as he could get without raising suspicion.

She didn’t reply.

_I’m coming to get you out, Theta._

He felt a faint tug on their bond, distinctly The Doctor, like she was testing out if she could respond. And then…

_Thank you, Koschei._

Her words were clear in his mind, but he couldn’t sense how she was feeling. Her guard was up.

_How are you holding up in there?_

Pause. He hoped the humans were still asleep.

_Okay. It’s cold. The food is terrible._

Oh, love. Still, if bad food was the worst of her worries… he’d feared so much worse.

_I won’t be long. I’ve brought your human friends, too._

He was warmed by the gratitude she sent him, spreading into his hearts, filling him with a bashfulness which didn’t suit him. Only The Doctor could do that.

_Are they okay?_

_They’re annoying. Especially the old one. But fine. Glad you’re alive._

_Good._

Another pause, though this time he could feel her through there bond. She was present, tiny hints of feelings keeping him company, buzzing through the silence like static on a phone call. He suspected he was weaker than she left on, the way her thoughts dropped in and out, like she was distracted.

_You’ll have to tell me when you make planetfall. The Judoon won’t let you land in the prison itself._

_I know, dear._

_Please keep my fam safe… they’ll have sensors… guns…_

_This isn’t my first prison break, Theta._

She paused a moment, he felt a flash of fond irritation sent towards him, strong even with the distance between them.

_Good luck, then._

He acknowledged her, the mental equivalent of a nod, and he felt her mind drifting away, ready to break the contact.

_Wait! Where do you hide the guns?_


	3. Chapter 3

Two measly blasters, she’d given him.

They’d been stashed under her bed, but at least they were advanced tech. The antiques he’d found in the armoury weren’t going to kill any Judoon. He’d been surprised The Doctor hadn’t objected, that she hadn’t foolishly insisted on him going in unarmed. Maybe she knew they just couldn’t reason with lifeforms like the Judoon, so far from comprehending the verbal gymnastics which the two of them were so talented in.

Maybe she was just sick of the Judoon, of their interference in her life, at a time when all she needed was recovery.

It was strange, to have The Doctor so _okay_ with his violence. In the past she’d at least pretend to object. He supposed the universe owed her something. More than either of them had ever imagined it would. She had been _robbed_ , of lifetimes and lifetimes, and she had every right to readdress the balance.

“Yaz, you have this.”

He threw her a blaster, and the girl caught it with fumbling hands. At least she caught it.

“You’re the one I expect to fuck up the least.” She nodded like she was being given military orders, and he struggled not to laugh. “Button. Make. Go. Bang. It’s terribly simple.”

He shot his own blaster into the wall of the TARDIS, making sparks fly but aiming where he knew wouldn’t hurt the ship. He grinned as the humans jumped, ignoring the grumbling projected into his mind from the TARDIS as he paced in front of them.

“Just press the button to teleport. They’ve got two trips, it’ll take you there then back. That’s… IT!”

He yelled the last word at them, just for a laugh. Ryan, stood at the end of their odd line formation, swayed. The boy looked ready to pass out.

“Questions?”

Oh god, Graham had one. And he was raising his hand. The Master didn’t stop pacing in front of them, but acknowledged the old man with a nod.

“How are we gonna find the Doc?”

“We’re bonded. She’s in my brain. I can talk to her now, _hi Doctor!_ ” He said the words out loud, not really bothering to touch their link.

The humans nodded solemnly.

“So you’ll just follow her directions?”

“Yu-up. That’s it for questions?” They looked ready to say something, but The Master needed to get on with this. Now. The less the humans knew, the better. “Bye!”

He slapped the button on his teleport, expecting at least a few seconds grace to recover before the apes eventually got around to following him, no doubt sharing a quick gossip first. But nope, they were there when he landed, just milliseconds behind. For all their flaws, he admired their dedication to helping The Doctor. It made sense why she had them around. Breathtakingly loyal. Far more loyal than a smarter species might be.

“Right. Be quiet, single file line behind me. Sensors will be a bit of a bitch here, but not to worry. Judoon are pretty slow.”

He led the march quickly across the field, zig-zagging as if he had a single clue how to avoid the supposed sensors. The humans followed his every footstep, determined not to put a single toe out of place. In fairness, they were keeping up, doing a stellar job. However, if anything went off, The Master still planned to blame them.

When they made it to the main prison entrance uninterrupted, The Master was so shocked he had no idea what to do.

“Why haven’t they shot us yet?” Yaz wondered aloud, the first in the procession just one step behind The Master.

“Dunno.” He turned, whispering just to her. “They’re a bit thick, Judoon.”

He swore he could see the girl shiver.

Suddenly, he could hear the uniform stomping of boots. Heavy, intimidatingly synchronised in a way that only Judoon could practice long enough to learn. Well, not _only_ Judoon. He pushed the thought of the Cybermen away, determined to never think about those monstrosities again. At least until he had another plan which needed them.

The tops of their heads were cresting a nearby crater, a block for four of them, too many to take.

It would only be a few seconds before the humans could hear them too.

“Ditch the teleports.”

“What?”

“It’s not illegal for us to be here, but those teleports are illegal.”

While Yaz was already taking out her teleport, Graham was squinting, concentrating on the noise.

“Judoon!” he hissed.

 _I fucking know._ The Master wanted to hiss. Instead, he stashed his own teleport in a trans-dimensional pocket, watching Yaz rip Graham and Ryan’s teleports from their hands, hiding them in a small hole with her own.

 _So_ obedient.

She looked back at him for instruction, and he looked pointedly at the blaster she was carrying. With a groan, she hid the gun too.

The Doctor would be laughing at him right now. His plans, his refusal to act without backup after backup, planning three steps ahead, she screwed it _all up._ His own blaster was crammed deep into a dimensionally engineered inner pocket, and he hoped that would be enough to stop Judoon in this time period finding it.

The creatures approached them with blasters drawn, grunting in that awkward language The Master hated so much. He refused to speak it.

Even if he found it endearing when The Doctor did.

“Hello! We’re from the Union!”

*

The Union excuse didn’t work, but those stupid creatures barely noticed when The Master changed his story. A quick go at their records system, and the four of them were admitted – under guard – to the facility.

They were supposed to be checking security, checking prisoner safety, under a guide who was not the most charismatic. _Four stars on TripAdvisor_ , as Ryan had joked. Graham had found himself walking beside The Master, as unsubtle as could be when he whispered to the timelord.

“So, what do we do now? Can’t be back without no teleports.”

“I’m aware. Just… shut up.”

The prison was massive, sprawling. All identical corridors and bare metal, numbers painted on clearly to cells. It wasn’t hard to slip away while they were inspecting an empty cell, only Yaz noticed. He gave her a wink as he darted around a corner, and she stumbled in their chatter as she kept their guide busy.

His hearts ached as he looked saw the cells. They were bare. Uncomfortable. The Judoon couldn’t design for one specific species, so they’d designed for none.

The Doctor hadn’t been here long, but he was certain she wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Couldn’t eat. Barely had space to stretch out, judging by the biped rooms they’d seen. Even for her new, short stature, there would barely be space to stand.

Rassillion, he loved how short she was now.

He found an empty corridor, uninhabited even by prisoners, before reaching out.

_Contact._

_Contact._

_We’re inside._

_Cell 4450._

_I’m on my way, love._

Short, utilitarian. He knew The Doctor hated communicating telepathically. It was strange, though, to hear her voice so curt. He knew she must still be hurting. Badly.

Ah, finally.

He was miles away from The Doctor’s cell. He was right next to the prison’s security room.

*

Two shots from the blaster had both guarding Judoon sprawled out on the floor. The TCE covered the two inside, and he was alone at the heart of the prison.

Where The Doctor preferred a _sonic_ touch, The Master had a good old fashioned boot. A few carefully placed kicks, cables ripped out of walls, and the whole place was in mayhem. Alarms went off and then silenced, lights were out, power gone. The Judoon wouldn’t be able to fix the problems themselves, so they went after every false alarm with the same fervour as the false alarm before it. The Master wondered if he could just tire them out, by tricking their systems like this.

Stupid.

He wondered, briefly, what was happening with the humans. They’d really have to watch their backs, with all this going on.

A quick search found the only Gallifreyan on the premises. Her health records were clear, _no injuries on capture_ next to her record, visible even under the smashed monitor surface. Good. He wouldn’t have to kill anyone else today.

The Master hit remote unlock, and got to running.

*

In perfect hindsight, he might have unlocked a few random doors, been a little more creative in his distraction. But he had blinders when it came to The Doctor. Just her mugshot and biometrics was enough. He had to reach her.

The teleports clinked together in his inside pocket, reminding him that he still had to get them all out of there. Still, two would be enough. One for him, one for his Doctor.

Her blonde mop of hair was stark against the industrial, dark grey corridors, coloured pink by the flashing emergency lights up above them. He’d strayed a fair way from her cell, and he wanted to curse her. What if she’d run the wrong way? The could’ve wandered this labyrinth forever.

She grabbed him in a quick hug, insultingly quick, before peering around him for the humans.

“Where are they?”

Ah, shit.

“Uhh… on their way, no doubt.”

*  
Phones. He always forgot they had _phones._ The humans were rushing towards them, following frantic instructions from The Doctor as both Time Lords ran for the exit to the asteroid’s surface. They were making good time. Right up until a breathless Doctor ran headlong into a Judoon.

The Master wrenched her back, hiding her behind himself, hoping to block the view of that big, ugly alien.

Clearly not a commanding officer, the Judoon was communicating with his team, and The Master knew they had scarce few seconds before their fate was decided.

The Master tried. He really tried. To visualise a future where The Doctor forgave him for making any other choice. He considered if the two of them teleported out, left the humans. Hoped they made it back to the surface. He considered leaving the weakest of them. Perhaps Graham. Maybe Ryan. He could have asked her to choose. He could have had the humans share a teleport, hoped they’d survived.

He could have shot the Judoon, killed as many as he could in the hope they’d make it to the surface. They’d be declared intergalactic outlaws, but they might have all survived. They probably wouldn’t have.

No.

He had to stay.

That was the only choice.

His death was the only one which bore forgiveness.

It was the only happy ending.

As he stood in front of her, he had the humans round them, stand behind their Time Lord protector as he conversed with the Judoon.

He would be executed shortly. The blaster was already out of the Judoon’s holster, more officers lining up behind him. He reached into a pocket, slowly, discretely, trying not to fumble the four disks in his grasp.

Open-palmed, he waited for the Fam to take their teleports. And they did.

One.

Two.

Three.

His hearts broke a little as The Doctor took her own, delicate fingers holding still a little too long, stroking the palm of his bigger hand before the cool metal left his skin.

Four.

He could almost picture her, frowning at the teleport. Trying to figure out the trick he had left up his sleeve.

_Contact._

_Contact._

_Is this the last one?_

He didn’t reply. He just heard his own voice, harsh, loud. It made even the Judoon jump.

“Go!”

He couldn’t believe it when the humans actually went. He suspected they had no idea the damage they were about to do by leaving them.

The noise was so distinctive, he could count them dematerialising.

One.

Two.

Three.

She tried to force him to take her teleport, of course she did. Desperation in her voice as she begged him to take it, tried to slap in on his closed palm. Rassilion, her hero complex was just unbearable.

“Please!” she screamed, no longer caring to be quiet. Death was on the way. It was a matter of time, for one of them.

For him.

It had to be him.

He refused to take the teleport, easily held her away, finally in the bigger, stronger body.

He hoped this body would last a while, at least. Not that it mattered to her. She had eternity.

“Surrender!”

That harsh warning, from a tongue not designed to speak multisyllabic words. The Master turned his back to the blaster, waiting to fire through his body. He wanted to be facing her when it happened.

They knew about regeneration. He suspected the Judoon would take mere minutes to kill every single one of his remaining bodies. He wouldn’t even get to see all of his own faces in a mirror. Shame. What if they were as pretty as this one?

The Doctor finally stopped struggling, stood a few feet from him, tears welling up in her eyes.

A few more Judoon finally rounded the corner, their synchronised stomps even louder than outside, echoing to make the metal corridors unbearably claustrophobic. When The Master heard the unlocking of their blasters, he turned to face them and stepped in front of her, eyes closed. He’d had a good run, been on borrowed time for centuries.

He prayed desperately, to whatever gods were higher than the two of them, that the shields were still down. That she could still make it back to her ship.

The impact was seconds away, he knew. He wanted to say something. Tell her something. He couldn’t think of a single damn word. The sound of a Judoon blaster was so distinct, almost as distinct as the teleports they were using. He prayed he’d hear her leaving first – know she was out of the way.

 _Please._ He begged her, forcing the word into her mind. _Go._


	4. Chapter 4

Just when he was about to break down from frustration, start screaming at The Doctor for being too stupid to just _leave him there!_ he felt two hands wrapping tightly around his torso. Strong, certain, definitely hers. For just a millisecond, she held him just like when they’d laid together on that grate. But then, he heard that distinctive _whoosh_ of dematerialisation, the Judoon shouting fading away along with the rest of the grim prison scene, accompanied by a sharp burst of pain that felt like it was taking over his whole body.

Oh, Rassillion.

No.

What had she done?

It was the first question on her companions’ lips too, when the Time Lords teleported in the TARDIS.

Teleports were built for one.

Definitely.

Rule one: _Do not touch someone else whilst teleporting_.

Well, she was never one for rules. The Doctor had gripped onto as much of him as she could manage, and she had paid the price. In the clothes she'd been taken in just over two days ago, laid flat out on the floor of the TARDIS console room, she was a bruised, injured mess. From his own vantage point on the ground, he almost whined at the sight of her. The companions stayed blessedly quiet, tongues stilled with shock.

The Master could barely clamber up from the grate, each step a huge labour as he forced himself to separate the pain from his body. He grumbled, clinging onto whatever parts of the console he could as he flipped a few switches, getting the TARDIS _the fuck out of here, please_. She heard him, and blessedly obliged.

It was even more of a feat to get back to The Doctor's unconscious body, back and legs aching as he reached her, batting away the helping hands Ryan and Yaz tried to offer. The only stimulus he could take right now was taking in The Doctor.

Still she was breathing.

She was bruised purple everywhere they’d been in contact. On his back, he knew he’d have her face imprinted in dark purple, blossoming reds. Aching, but not dangerous.

For her, it was rather more serious.  Her bruising was already swelling something vicious, across her neck, face. _Please_ , _let there no fractures._ He was useless at healing fractures. As rough as her face looked, he was sure it was even worse under her long shirts. The thought of how hard she'd gripped on to him, determined not to leave him, only made the damage she'd sustained even more _his fault_.

“Ice. Get me _ice._ ”

Her pets scattered as he yelled, all running to various places where he was sure the TARDIS would provide them cold packs. 

He groaned as he scooped her up, knowing that he ought not to lift her, not with his new injuries. He was, at the best of times, a man powered by adrenaline and spite. So he made it to the med-bay nonetheless. Like he was laying a volatile explosive, he placed her down delicately, doing his best to figure out where her injuries were, and avoiding putting weight on them.

By the time her friends found him, bearing ice packs, frozen vegetables, and high-tech cold blocks, he was rummaging through the med-bay cupboards. He wasn't distracted from his task as they approached, the older one clearing his throat.

“Great. Now _get out!_ ”

None of them scarpered, and he groaned. Bless them. Loyal as _dogs_. They piled up the cooling packs near the bed, all wary of getting too close. To him or The Doctor, he couldn't tell.

“She’s fine. Unconscious from the bruising. Her body’s protecting her brain. Now… get out.”

There was no fight left in him. All they felt was concern for her, the worry painted across their faces, and he could sympathise with that. Was grateful for it, even. As he started to cut off her shirt they finally left, whispering amongst themselves. 

_What did you do…?_ He mumbled to her as he shoved clothes off her ribs, focussed on each new inch of injury that revealed itself, trying not to move her more than necessary. He had some pause, however. It made him put down the surgical scissors. This was a new body. He wasn’t sure how comfortable she was in this regeneration yet. After a moment's thought, he left her bra on. For now. Always hard to tell whether Time Lords would care about modesty in new bodies. Better to play it safe.

The Master wasted no time smoothing an anti-bruising agent across her, starting with her face. Mainly to alleviate his own guilt, of course. Every time he glanced at that pretty, pretty face all he could see was purpling, swelling worsening by the second. She’d have to tell him, when she finally came to, if her nose was broken. It looked fine, she’d clearly twisted her head to the side against his back. The bruising was symmetric, worse on her left side. She’d been lucky, all things considered. They both had.

He lamented her strange preference in medical technologies. Almost none of the machines stockpiled in the room were Time Lord, and he wasn't sure what to use. The TARDIS would likely help him, if push came to shove, but he didn't want to take the risk of doing the wrong thing. 

Besides, she'd know better than anyone what to do. 

_Theta…_ he was reaching out to her, quietly, over and over. She wasn't responding. Like it might offer comfort, the TARDIS beeped out her vital signs, reminding The Master of what he already knew – this wasn’t life threatening. It would just hurt like a bitch.

Still. He wanted to talk to her. Wanted her to tell him she was fine.

Suddenly, there she was.

_Koschei?_

He didn’t know to reply. His subconscious beat him to it, sending forward an embarrassing wave of _oh my god you’re okay._

He could almost hear a dry laugh through their connection. Her eyes were still closed, outwardly she was unconscious. He could imagine the mirth flickering in her eyes, though. Beneath that vicious black eye she was sporting.

_That was a close one, huh?_

_Why did you do that, with the teleport? You should’ve just used it. Alone. When I told you to._

He tried to be commanding, threatening, but all he could send her was concern, tenderness, tinged with gratitude. 

_They would have killed you_.

Yeah, they would have. But he didn’t reply. She didn't need to know how he'd expected to be executed. Welcomed it, even. He was long overdue for a few blaster shots.

_Sharing a teleport should have killed us._

She was amused, he could feel it, tugging at him to smile across their bond.

_We’re Time Lords. That’s human advice. We’re strong enough to survive the pressure._

God. Of course, she’d shared a teleport before. Selfless, stupid Doctor.

 _Hurts like a motherfucker, though._ He quipped.

She winced, in the physical plane, at his swearing. He caught himself laughing: at her, with her, in relief that she was moving. All of the above.

_True enough._

It was with reverence and permission that he cut her long sleeves completely off, smiling as she grumbled about losing the shirt in the back of his mind.

_Thank you for getting me. And for keeping my friends safe._

For trying to sacrifice yourself for some tiny, matchstick-human-lives, is what she meant.

He stroked the cooling medication into her purpling hands, around the stiffening joints which were smaller than his own for the first time he could recall.

“Anytime, Doctor.”

He’d smeared anti-bruising gel on himself, too, carelessly following the lines where her forearms and hands had gripped him. He applied the ice packs gently, using scraps of her clothes to mute their coolness.

_Tell me if it’s too cold._

Her mind murmured back an affirmative, and he knew she was already slipping into a healing coma. Good. She needed rest.

_I’ll be here._

*

The Master found his way to the ship’s kitchen in a daze, still trying to sort through his thoughts. His plans. What was next? Did he have to leave? Were the humans staying? 

It was with a small relief he saw the room was empty of her pets, only to jump when he noticed Yaz, huddled in a nook around the wooden kitchen table. So domestic, these last few incarnations' design choices. At least, maybe for her companions’ sake. He was sure the Time Lord was still a hopeless cook. No use for a kitchen.

He flicked the twenty-third century kettle to boil, before leaning against the kitchen counter to face Yaz. It was surreal. The woman seemed as dazed as he did, at least.

“What happened to her? She looked rough.”

He sighed,

“Those teleports are old, they're like... compressors. When you share ‘em…” he trailed off, and Yaz nodded here understanding. No need to elaborate.

Definitely The Doctor's smartest human pet in a hot minute, he’d give her that.

“Thank you.” She took a second laugh at herself, clasping her phone in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m saying that.”

He nodded, a begrudging acknowledgement which meant _I haven’t decided if I like you lot yet._

The kettle beeped that it was done, and The Master took the interruption as a blessing, turning to rummage around for tea. More specifically, alcoholic tea. It had been a favourite of his for centuries, and he was tickled that The Doctor still stockpiled it.

Once it was poured into the biggest, most ridiculous mug he could find, The Master perched opposite Yaz at the table for a moment. An olive branch while his tea brewed. He inhaled the strong fumes coming off it, knowing his aches would be muted in a moment by the strength of the drink.

The Master couldn’t totally comprehend the look Yaz was giving him. But it wasn’t hostile.

“Does it hurt?”

He smiled, not sure which answer she’d prefer. Him to be fine, or in agony.

“Yep. Not as badly as The Doctor’ll be hurting, though. So can’t complain.”

Yaz nodded, watching him thoughtfully. The kitchen was peaceful, space for four with cushions and drying pots and pans still out on the side. He wondered who'd done the washing up. Eventually, tea bag disposed of, the Master was about to leave, when Yaz's Yorkshire accent broke through the hypnotic hum of the ship.

“How did you have more teleports? Back in the prison?”

He stood, taking his drink with him.

“Nicked ‘em.”

She smiled.

Definitely his favourite companion in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone's lovely comments on the last chapters! <3  
>  ps. can someone please invent alcoholic tea?


	5. Chapter 5

“I really quite liked you, as O, y’know. Oh, a rhyme!”

He was glad The Doctor felt well enough to talk, but Rassilion he wished she’d stop for just a second. She was still laid out on the med-bay bed, covered by an oversized medical gown the TARDIS seemed to have summoned for her. Barely a few hours after she’d arrived the medication had started to work its magic. Who was he kidding? It was her Time Lord, or whatever she was, genetics. Super fast healing. He’d looked her over for injuries, checked with a scanner the various places she whined about hurting.

Her chatter was a brave face, and he was glad for it. When he caught her wincing as she laughed, or tried to move to help him, it brought a vicious pang of guilt into his chest.

“O was cool. ‘Liked texting him. I was proper upset when it turned out he was you. Not because it was you, obviously. I just liked having a friend.”

Ah. There it was. Barely between the lines of her ramblings, even as he dressed her wounds and healed a few minor fractures, with a sonic and some steady hands. He wasn’t a friend.

Why did that hurt so badly? He couldn’t meet her eyes as he looked along her sternum for the next spot to heal. He spoke down at her ribs, instead of facing her.

“I quite liked playing O, if that makes things any better.”

The Master was sure the skin on her chest rose in goosebumps where his breath met it.

“‘Not sure it does,” she grumbled between gasps.

He held her in place, stopped her from moving around to peer at his expression while he focused on a nasty fracture in her collarbone. She hissed as his thumb scraped over it, checking it was all healed, before he moved on to her bandaged fingers.

The Doctor hummed tunelessly, in thought or from pain, he couldn’t tell. He pressed on, unravelling hastily-applied bandages to see her fingers were swollen and bruised. Damn, he’d hoped they wouldn’t need operating.

She’d held on to him too hard.

All was silent as he painstakingly ran the sonic up each of her fingers, holding them in alignment. There was something eerie about the med-bay. Maybe it was its history. The room almost sucked noise out of the air. The only muffled sound was the buzz of the sonic, and The Doctor’s hiss of pain each time he moved her too roughly.

He switched, from one hand to the other, rounding the bed to avoid leaning over her body. He was still in the suit he’d tried to take Gallifrey in, aside from his heavy coat, which was thrown aside. The garments had been cleaned, the dust of their civilisation washed out of the fabric by the TARDIS, but the image in her mind couldn’t be erased. He could see her staring. Thinking.

Overthinking.

Her tendency to overthink his actions tended to put something of a spanner in the works of their friendship, after all. The Doctor read too far into what he did. Took it too seriously.

They were gods walking through a boring, linearly-moving universe. It wasn’t worth getting caught up in the small things, like she did.

Distraction time.

“How long did you end up in the Judoon prison, in your time?”

“Four days. Pretty good calculation, on your part.”

He hummed, focusing on a particularly nasty bruise crawling up her index finger. Four days was longer than he’d hoped. He wondered if any of her bruising was older than the teleport had caused. If it was from those bastards at the prison.

Maybe it was patronising, to be more protective now she was smaller. The sex of your regeneration was fairly negligible on Gallifrey – unless you had the _interests_ they’d shared at the academy – but stature? That was important.

She was small. He wanted to look after her.

“Did they hurt you?”

His voice was deeper, angrier than he’d anticipated. The Doctor looked at him, as he asked. Her eyes were bloodshot, bruised up, but still just as big. Bright. He didn’t even need telepathy to read her, not when her feelings were painted across this new face of hers.

“Y’know what prisons are like. Not bad considering.”

He did know what prisons were like. She’d sent him to plenty. To some of the darkest, bleakest in the universe. He muttered an apology as he moved the bones in her finger into place, making her hiss.

“I fucking hate Judoon. Waste of a species,” he grunted.

The Doctor made no move to argue, just smiled sadly. It was a small smile limited by the swelling on her face he couldn’t quite get rid of.

She must have been hurt, not to lie. Not to have told him she was fine outright. For the first time in years, he had the urge to hug The Doctor.

“Someone’s got to keep the peace. It’s a shame it’s them.” That was her concession to his point.

The façade of pretending to like all these less-intelligent species – it irritated him no end.

Those creatures had no business meddling in Time Lord business.

“I always thought… the Time Lords could have done that. Should have. They would have kept the universe to rights. If they hadn’t been so damn selfish.”

He felt warmth in his face as he spoke. It was a vision they’d shared, as kids. Using their technology, their genius, to help people. It had always been flattering to him that The Doctor actually tried to do follow through on what they’d fantasised about as kids. Tried to keep as much goodness in the universe as she could. At least, when she felt like it.

The Doctor didn’t respond for so long that he checked she was still conscious, and when he finally stepped back from healing her last injured fingers, those tear tracks were back. She saw him watching, winced as she tried to move her own hand to wipe them away. The Master felt himself moving to catch the droplets by impulse.

She screwed her eyes shut as his thumbs met her cheekbones, stroking her mottled skin as gently as he could. The Doctor took a few attempts at parting her lips to speak, and he felt his own throat getting choked up in sympathy with hers.

“I’m sorry,” when she finally opened her reddened eyes they were so intense, he had to look away. “I just… always hoped…”

He knew what she was about to say, but he couldn’t finish her sentence. He couldn’t stand it. He stepped back.

“I always thought that it would be us, doing that. Together. Protectors of the universe.”

The Master tried to convey everything he’d worked towards in his face. Patronising, cynical, smug. But somehow, he couldn’t. He couldn’t make her hurt any more. His voice came out broken.

“I know.”

*

He left her to lay there for another thirty minutes or so, ignoring the beeps and nudges to his mind from the TARDIS as he pottered around, doing nothing much. Finally, he felt enough time had passed. His own eyes had stopped leaking tears, and he was thinking clearly again.

Well, as clearly as he ever did around her. She really brought out the extremes in him.

The Master tried not to smile as she startled upon his re-entrance to the med-bay. Whatever entertainment the TARDIS had provided disappeared, and she watched him like a hawk as he approached.

“You should be good to move a little more, now. It’ll still hurt though.”

She waved him off with an _I know_ , but he couldn’t miss the fondness in her voice. He imagined he’d miss it, once things went back to normal. She appraised him for a moment, clearly reinvigorated by her time away from him. Space to think never did either of them any good.

“Y’know what would make me feel better? A bath.”

Rassilion.

*

He was adamant that the bath shouldn’t be too hot, and she groaned at him as he continued to turn the hot tap down, even as she was desperate to boil herself. They made tricky patients, Doctors.

His role was made harder by the face she was only wearing a short dressing gown, one so small she must have gotten it for this body specifically. Her thighs flashed at him when she moved, crossing and uncrossing her legs in a way that would be provocative if he couldn’t sense the flashes of pain through their connection, the discomfort which made her fidget.

She sat, waiting for the water to fill, and he sat on the filed floor next to her in silence. The room was too hot, he was still wearing his suit, but he couldn’t bare the awkwardness of stripping layers. At least whatever crap she’d found to throw in the bath smelt amazing.

“I’m bored. It’s definitely ready,” The Doctor proclaimed, standing and stripping off her dressing gown, even before could move a hand to test the water.

It was almost a reflex, to avert his eyes from her naked form. He didn’t have to. Shouldn’t, even. He was no blushing virgin, and this was The Doctor. Yet when he looked at her body, beautiful and bruised in all the places she’d held him as they’d been ripped out of that prison, he couldn’t stand to stare.

“You joinin’?”

“No.”

Good. He was firm. Shut her down.

He focussed on hanging up her gown as she sunk into the water, moaning as the tension left her body. He finally watched her again when she smiled at him, content, surrounded by an outrageous pile of bubbles. He could’ve sworn he imagined the faint wave of gratitude she sent towards him.

*

Their peace never lasted long. Even naked and hurt, while he watched on in good health and fully-clothed, The Doctor could pick a fight with him.

“I wasn’t going to leave you there, in that asteroid _prison!_ ” she threw her arms up, gesturing wildly.

He tried not to watch her too closely. Not to stare at where the bubbles on the surface rippled and tore holes in their covering of her flesh. She was still talking, even as his focus was ripped away. The Doctor could drive him mad in so many ways.

“I just think your risk was poorly calculated.”

He was bullshitting and he knew it.

It was worth it though, to hear her exaggerated, exasperated _huff._

“You would have died, Koschei.”

“I know.” His voice softened. “I just hate that you got hurt.”

She didn’t lower her volume to match his tone. If anything, she was getting angrier by the second.

“You would’ve had me hurt much worse, back on Gallifrey... You _did_ hurt me much worse.”

He had to wrack his brain, to realise what she meant. Sure, the paralysis field was incredibly unpleasant, but physically she should have been almost fine. He’d tested it. No, he realised. She didn’t mean physical pain. There were tear tracks on her face, and he tried to ignore them. It was just like when they were young. When he went too far, and those twin lines of tears would snake down her cheeks. When he knew it was time to stop his games.

The Master hoped she wouldn’t cry again. This form didn’t seem like an angry crier. Not from the way she was frowning, gripping the edge of the bathtub with fingers which had been shattered just hours before.

“I had to tell you. It’s your life. They…” he tried to temper his anger, knowing it would only rile up The Doctor. “They took so much from you. And they hid it. You had to know.”

He was distracted by movement of the water as she recrossed her feet, ankles now left over right, toes barely poking through the bubbles.

“You mean you didn’t want to be the only one who knew.”

 _Hm_.

“I couldn’t let you go your whole life not knowing.”

The glare she fixed him with was planet-stopping, and yet he knew she was glad. Would be glad. She hated not knowing. Couldn’t stand it. He hoped that maybe, after a few millennia to process it, The Doctor might finally be able to stop running from herself.

“You might outlive me now, y’know,” he tried to tease. She didn’t take the bait.

“I doubt you’ll be letting that happen.”

*

He thought maybe she’d let him sleep next to her. It was unusual, but he was tired a second night in a row. He knew they both were. Just her company would be enough to keep the terrors away for a night, too. He usually found peace, in The Doctor’s arms.

It had been intimate, while she was in that bath. She was unguarded. If he had any intention of being a threat, it might have happened by now. When she’d risen out of the water she’d been able to move more freely, healed by the compounds the TARDIS must have snuck in through the taps. And now she didn’t need his trust, his intimacy. Playing field levelled, once again.

So she’d ignored his offered help. Found her own clothes for bed, messed up the various things he’d tidied just hours ago before their audacious prison break. Before she’d been hurt.

She walked around him like he wasn’t even there, crawled into the middle of her bed leaving no space for him. Offered him no clothes. No thank you, even.

“Can you turn the light off as you go, please?”

“Of course.”

Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brain ain't working too good with Miss 'Rona here, so this is all I've got! 
> 
> Wishing you all safety atm, and thank you so much everyone who's left kudos/a lovely comment x


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're finally approaching crack!fic territory. Which feels a little inevitable with Doctor Who.
> 
> The Master tries to bond with The Humans.  
> The Doctor takes a nap.

He was sure the TARDIS was making these corridors even longer with every step he took. Still, it was hard to be annoyed. He had no idea where he wanted to wind up.

It wasn’t his ship. He didn’t know where he belonged. His first choice was The Doctor’s room, but she’d kicked him out of her room. The library was out of the running: he could hear Yaz and Ryan chatting away in there, and he wasn’t in the mood to handle their questions. Even if it meant he could find a decent book. The odd door appeared as he stalked along the bare floor, but he _certainly_ wasn’t in the mood for whatever gimmicks she’d installed around the ship.

The console room seemed off limits, too. Far too tempting to do something she’d get grumpy about. No doubt the ship would wake its pilot angrily if he dared even look at the console wrong. And The Doctor sorely needed her sleep.

Melancholy had well and truly set in by the time the ajar door to the kitchen appeared, making his very bones feel heavier, exhaustion seeping into his muscles.

Ah. There it was.

Overdue, muted, but there. The comedown.

Strangely, as he slumped down at the kitchen table, he was glad to hear the humming of her oldest _human_. A distraction from his thoughts would be welcome. The old man was a little annoying, but in here, The Master could avoid obsessing on his failure for just a little longer.

Graham hadn’t noticed him yet, was too busy bumbling around, stirring a variety of things on the stove which smelt delicious. For human food. The Master smiled as Graham finally caught sight of him and jumped, clutching his chest in panic.

“Christ! You scared the living daylights out of me.”

The Master just nodded as Graham turned back to the stove, checking the pots there once before spinning to face the Time Lord. Graham just watched him: cautious, judgemental, presumably very confused as to what this _enemy_ was doing in the TARDIS. He doubted humans could ever truly understand.

He tried to break the ice.

“What are you cooking?”

This was being cordial, right? He was bad at that. It was a trait he’d always struggled with. Him and The Doctor that in common. Charm, they could handle. Warmth? Politeness? A whole other beast.

“Oh, uh, it’s a stew… sort of thing. Cooking’s the most I can offer to this lot. Always a bit odd, though, the ingredients we end up with here. Not even sure where they come from to be honest with you, cockle.”

Graham was distracted, unlocking his phone as he spoke. Typing out a message with his index finger. Internally, The Master groaned. Agonisingly slow, some of these pets she chose.

“I can just call for the other humans with the TARDIS, if that’s faster?” the Master offered, in a tone he felt was kind enough.

Graham clearly didn’t hear feel his _kindness._ The colour drained from his face.

 _If I wanted to kill you, it would have happened by now_ , was the comfort he wanted to give.

It would be the wrong thing to say. The Master knew that. He sort-of wanted to tell Graham that anyway. See how much paler the man could get.

“It’s alright, I’ll let ‘em know the old-fashioned way.”

Barely a beat passed before Yaz and Ryan burst into the room, clearly panting from running. They halted abruptly as they walked through the door, clearly pretending to be some degree of _casual_. Master gave a little wave, as their eyes scanned the room for him.

He could almost _smell_ their fear.

But The Doctor wouldn’t like that. Even if it was a little bit funny.

“Graham’s cooking!” he smiled.

*

They’d all sat opposite him, at the table. It wasn’t completely awkward, but The Master could tell they were tense. That they wanted badly to ask him questions. Nonetheless, he was quite enjoying dinner. It had been years since he’d had some decent home cooked food. He suspected Graham was about to ruin it by talking, though.

“So, how’s the Doc doing?”

The Master took his time finishing chewing, taking a sip of water before he answered. He loved the suspense, the growing tension in the room. The way they all stopped moving to watch him.

Their panic was unwarranted, of course. Though it would have been quite funny to say she was dead.

“Recovering. Gave her a bath, mended some broken bones, all that. She’ll be her usual, annoying self after a good sleep.”

Yaz breathed out the loudest sigh of relief, and the other two finally went back to eating, Ryan serving himself seconds.

‘I’m a growing boy!’ he’d informed Graham. The Master couldn’t remember if that was true. He was pretty sure humans were meant to have stopped growing by adulthood. Always hard to keep track.

The Master ate extra too, fishing around for the best chunks of meat and veg, in solidarity.

“Are you planning on staying on the TARDIS, once she’s better?”

Yaz was hard to read, as she asked. He might have imagined it, the look on her face. Like she wanted him to say yes. Or maybe it was more accusatory. Hard to tell.

“Depends. The Doctor runs pretty hot and cold with me. I’ll probably get going, though, before she tries to kill me again.”

“Again?”

It was Ryan. The others were gawking. Classic human activity, gawking.

He feigned surprise for a moment, as all attention turned to him once again. Oh, they were in for quite a story time. The Master laid his fork down, wetting his lips before he spoke.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

*

He regaled them with a few lightly modified stories, even as Graham and Ryan washed up. Yaz interjected with questions at the slight weaknesses in his tales, where his stories were moulded together to favour him, and he came up with a believable angle to tell them every time. Without damning The Doctor too much. After all, he didn’t want her to be too angry at him.

Eventually they stopped asking questions. Started exchanging glances amongst themselves. Doubt crept in.

The tell-tale signal: He’d done his job. Sowed doubt. _Sorry, Doctor_.

He had to change the subject. Let his suggestions fester for a while. Maybe have a bit of fun while he was at it.

“What are you three planning to occupy the rest of your evening with, then?”

“We usually just sit around and gossip.” Ryan answered, perhaps too honestly. Yaz gave him a sharp elbow. “You’re welcome to join!”

Oh, happily.

Maybe it was time to introduce them to alcoholic tea.

*

“Fuck! I forget what lightweights you humans are!”

Yaz and Ryan struggled to speak over each other in protest, bursting into a fit of giggles as neither of them managed for formulate a rebuttal. The Master almost spilt his cup laughing at them, fumbling to regain hold of the thing so he could take another gulp. Graham had long since fallen asleep on the sofa, his snores giving them all something to giggle over, wherever there was a reprise in their playground banter.

“You’re smashed too!” Yaz finally spluttered out, sprawled on her back, watching him upside down. Rassilion, their faces were close.

“Am not! And at least I’m drinking real booze!” He gestured to the half-drunk bottle left lying on the floor. Must be leaking, broken. It had been near full when he found it.

He knew he was shouting, but The Master couldn’t bring himself to care. Sprawled out with the humans on the floor of the library, each of them fighting for rug-space closest to the fire, he was having too much fun to whisper. Species-Category-5 Strength Vodka was a magical concoction, he’d decided.

“You are too!” Yaz giggled.

“You’re so drunk! I bet you can’t even walk in a straight line!”

Ryan was crashed out on Yaz’s other side, near Graham’s old-man slippers. They’d taken the piss out of them before Graham fell asleep.

“What?”

Walking in lines?

“It’s how we test for drunkness on Earth, go on, walk in a straight line!” Ryan pointed clumsily to the room’s empty space, near the door. It seemed a million miles away, right now.

_Fine!_

Stupid humans.

Drunk?

Hadn’t The Doctor ever mentioned their superior Time Lord metabolism? It was very powerful. He barely even felt tipsy.

Ryan and Yaz howled with laughter as he struggled to get up from the floor, head spinning as he attempted to clamber over them.

“How you managing?” Yaz slurred, poking at his ankles as he reached out for a sofa for support.

“Excellent…ly,” he informed her, before snapping his attention back to remembering how to be bipedal. It was harder than he recalled. Rassilion, it was a long way down to the floor. Why weren’t they sitting on the sofas again? He couldn’t remember.

Finally, he made it past the sofas.

He was just about to prove how spectacularly sober he was, when the opening of the library door distracted him. Distracted him so much he completely stacked it, letting out an _oof_ as he hit the carpet. When he looked up from the floor, he caught sight of a sleep-dishevelled Doctor marching into the room, her blue outercoat slung over pyjamas.

She took in the scene with a sigh, tilting her head to look down at The Master, the bruise around her eye minimised to nothing but a blueish stain.

The Master was pretty sure he was talking, telling her about how pretty her face was or how fun vodka was, but she didn’t seem to be listening. She was wandering over to Graham, checking he was alright.

Stupid humans. Always taking her attention.

They all winced as she clapped her hands together.

“Right then. Bed. All of you.”


	7. Chapter 7

“So, you’re turning my friends against me, I hear?”

Fucking TARDIS. Absolute tattle tale. He’d shoot some more holes in the interior of the thing later. The ship hummed smugly at the back of his mind. _Ow._

“Oi, I’m talking to you!”

Had The Doctor’s voice always been that loud? Rassilion.

As his eyes crept open, he realised where he was. Her bedroom was far brighter than he could ever remember any room ever being. He was laying sprawled on his front, in a pair of oversized men’s pyjamas. Her old ones, he hoped.

He really had to stop coming to, confused, on this ship.

“Wake up. You’ve been sleeping for _hours._ ”

She tugged at the duvet, and by reflex he gripped to keep it covering him. The fabric slipped just enough for the cold chill of the room to hit his naked chest. Oh. His shirt was off.

“Did we have a magical night last night, Doctor? I’m flattered.”

She was rolling her eyes. He knew she was. Even with his own eyelids firmly screwed shut, pillow shoved over his face. The Doctor was probably blushing, too. She was so easy to embarrass, it was wonderful.

“It sounded like you had a great time with my companions.” She grumbled, throwing him his shirt. “Great enough to wake me up.”

He grunted out a _sorry_ as he contemplated moving, ultimately deciding against it. He still wasn’t sure his legs would co-operate.

She was still talking, wandering around. Fucksake.

“You’re awfully heavy in this body, y’know. Had to basically drag you here. TARDIS even reduced the gravity for me.”

He huffed, sitting up. He certainly felt heavy, at that moment. That was probably the vodka though. That stuff was illegal in some galaxies. He grabbed she shirt she’d thrown at him, glad to realise he was still in his trousers.

“I think you’re just smaller.”

She shot him a glare, and he replied with the sweetest smile he could manage. Winding her up was curing his hangover already. She looked up at the ceiling as he pulled his shirt on, tapping a foot with unwarranted impatience.

“Hurry up and metabolise all that booze already.”

“Can’t. I think I’m going to be sick.”

*

He didn’t throw up, as it transpired, but he sure as hell felt rough. After making an attempt at dressing, The Master changed his mind on facing the day, deciding he couldn’t quite stand The Doctor’s judgement this early. He could barely stand up straight, let alone banter with her. He traipsed across the room to have a shower in her en-suite, trying not to stare over at the bath she’d been in just a few hours prior. The intensity, the surrealism of it all hit him as he stripped.

He was here. In her TARDIS. She’d trusted him. He’d trusted her.

Everything was fine. Intimate. Like nothing had transpired between them.

He was using her shower. He’d just slept in her bed.

She was out there now, pottering around. Probably trying not to go crazy without him or the humans to chatter away to. She was right there.

If nothing else, he was glad to see her looking healthy again, moving pain-free. She must have slept more, after she dragged them all to bed. It had scared him – a lot more than he’d like to admit – to see her hurt.

That was over now, though. He had no reason to care. To be protective. If she was back to giving him a bollocking for something as innocent as getting drunk, that was a good sign.

When he left the bathroom, already dressed, she was laid out on her bed, reading one of the many books which had been thrown onto the ground. She didn’t look up when he stepped into the room, but he could tell she knew he was there. She wasn’t rapidly turning the pages of her book anymore, she was just waiting for him to speak.

He often wondered if it was still mutual. The feelings he had bottled up for her. If she still cared about him the way their kind really, really weren’t supposed to.

“Sobered up?” she chirped, in a way clearly designed to make him wince – hungover or not.

“Yes, dear.”

“Good.” She threw her book down on to the mess bed, and he cringed at how she would be creasing the pages. “I was bored when you were asleep.”

He followed behind her as she rushed to the kitchen for breakfast, two fry-ups and mugs of tea already on the countertop, still steaming. TARDISes always had good self-preservation – and this ship clearly understood that stopping The Doctor from cooking was the safest possible move.

It would be hours until her companions should wake up, so The Master was pleasantly surprised when he was handed his tray and lead all the way back to sit on her bedroom floor. Back to privacy.

The Doctor didn’t say a word as she lead the way, but he knew what she was thinking.

_Human company just isn’t the same_.

A whole universe of species, some just as smart, some near-identical, but there was nothing like them.

He’d learnt that, as Missy.

On the path to redemption.

“Your companions were quite good fun, last night.”

The Doctor snorted a laugh, mouth already full of scrambled eggs.

“Surprised they didn’t drink themselves half to death, the stuff you gave them.”

“I kept the good booze to myself, don’t you worry.”

Sure, he’d given Ryan and Yaz a shot of his vodka just to show off how strong it was - but they’d insisted it was pure gasoline and refused to drink anymore. They’d be fine. Probably.

She laughed at him again, and The Master tried to focus on his meal. Not on her smile. Not on how much he liked this laugh. It was higher, more unfiltered than previous generations’. More genuine.

“They’d have had your first regeneration, if anyone had found you like that at the academy.” She told him. “You were catatonic.”

She continued to laugh into her tea at him, and he refused to acknowledge the searching in her eyes. She wanted to see how he reacted, talking about their home planet.

“As I recall, Theta, you were usually the one we had to carry home.”

“Only because you were a lightweight, Koschei.”

She relished in using his academy name, he could tell.

They had to sprawl out, sitting on the floor like this. She was flexible in her new body, plate on the floor while she sat cross-legged. In contrast, he’d laid himself out like a king on a chaise, resting on a hip and an elbow while he picked at the plate in front of him. He might have been imagining it, but he was pretty sure she’d been checking him out, eyes flickering up from her bacon to follow the stretch of his legs.

But as she ate, she went quiet. He knew why. Recalling the Academy could never be sweet for long. There were far too many bad times woven between those threads of good memories.

“Those humans. They care about you. An awful lot. You’re all they wanted to talk about last night.”

It was a fight not to mumble, but he could tell she heard. Understood what he was saying.

Her companions. Always enough to cheer her up. Right?

To his surprise, The Doctor just looked _sad_.

“I know.”

He chewed slowly, putting his fork down with a _clink_. It couldn’t drag her from her introspection.

“You know, it pains me to admit it, but they really are some pretty good pets you’ve chosen. Bit young, though.”

She shrugged. Fine.

“More natural life left, I suppose. Except for Graham.”

She moved suddenly, with a clatter of cutlery against her own plate. A swathe of blonde hair had fallen in her face as she glared across at him. It wasn’t particularly intimidating. He just wanted to sweep the hair out of her face.

He went back to his food.

“It’s a shame.” He added.

Since their little adventure on the Judoon prison asteroid, he actually started to find a little fondness in his heart for those three.

He could agree that they burned out shamefully quick, those matchstick lives of her human companions.

“That’s what hurts the most about humans.” The Doctor was speaking to the carpet. He had to strain his ears to hear. “Gone too soon.”

Her mug was clenched between two white-knuckled hands, and he raised his own tea to hers, clinking them together before he drank, even as she stayed stock still. It was a cheers, a salute she didn’t consent to. After a few moments, she drank too.

Maybe it was the burning-hot grief of their home planet being destroyed (again), but The Doctor was fairly adept at bringing the mood down lately. The heat of the tea on his tongue couldn’t do much to soothe the sombre mood in the room. The emptiness creeping from her mind to his.

Rassilion.

“Do you think Yaz fancies me?”

“No!”

Like she’d been unfrozen, The Doctor jumped back into animation, arguing with him through a mouthful of bacon.

“I reckon she does.”

“Absolutely not!”

“She’s quite pretty too. Smart, for a human.”

The Doctor had put her cup down, ready to swat at him in irritation. Back to normal. Perfect.

“No! You leave her alone. Poor girl. Far too young.”

“Oh, she’s not _that_ young.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve gone younger!”

“Have not!”

Dangerous territory. Redirect.

“She liked me when I was pretending to be O!”

“We all liked you as O!”

“Really?”

“Really.”

All it took was a raise of his eyebrow, and she was laughing again, struggling not to choke on her tea.

Good.

*

Eventually, hours and hours of chatter later, the TARDIS warned its pilot that the humans were awake.

The Master could have stayed there forever, beside the plates from their long-finished breakfast, fidgeting into different over-thought poses on the floor of The Doctor’s bedroom. It felt like they were sneaking into each-others’ dorms at The Academy again, everything a thousand times funnier at the risk of being caught.

The humans came first though. Her responsibility, etc, etc. Boring.

The Doctor insisted on meeting them in the kitchen with cups of coffee - which The Master ended up begrudgingly brewing. Probably for the best. Didn’t want to _accidentally_ poison them.

The humans all wandered in slowly. First was Graham, dressed for the day but looking decidedly worse for wear. If he was surprised to see The Master there, around their shabby old kitchen table, then he didn’t show it. He took his coffee with a _cheers_ , settling into conversation about nothing much quite comfortably.

It was only minutes later that Yaz stumbled through the kitchen door, dressed and showered but clearly exhausted. She’d tried to keep up with Ryan all night, against her better judgment, and was clearly paying for it now. She at least had the decency to be shocked The Master was there, taking her coffee from The Doctor with a confused _thanks_.

“You survived last night then?” She nodded at Graham, and he winced at the noise.

“Just about,” he groaned. “’Can’t believe how bloody strong that stuff was.”

“I’m never drinking again.”

That sounded familiar. He shot her a knowing, charming smile, making Yaz look down shyly enough to feel a wave of irritation snake into his mind from Theta.

“I’ve been saying that for eight-hundred years.”

*

By the time Ryan appeared Yaz had wandered off to call her family, still complaining about her pounding head. However hungover Ryan was, he didn’t seem nauseous. The man devoured a full fry up as if he hadn’t eaten in years, and The Master was almost tempted to clap. It was impressive.

Graham was clearly used to it.

“I heard The Doc’ had to put you to bed?”

“Nah, but at least I was still awake.”

Graham huffed.

“I more… had to convince him to go to bed!” The Doctor interjected, nodding pointedly at Graham. “Unlike the pair of you. Useless, asleep. Was tempted to leave you there!”

“At least it was fun!” Ryan spoke through a mouthful of food, and The Master found himself smiling back.

Actually, yeah. It had been fun.

“I’ll tell you where she keeps all the top-shelf, next time.” He offered, and The Doctor took a joking swipe at him. Telepathically, she was broadcasting nothing but fondness.

“You will not! I don’t want to clean any more gross fluids off this ship, thank you very much.”

The humans cringed, Graham choking on his tea, while her own innuendo completely went over The Doctor’s head. Oh, Theta. A quick telepathic tease, and suddenly her blush was very visible to everyone in the room.

The Master decided to come to her rescue, lest Ryan die from laughing.

“If the humans puke, that’s not my problem.”

*

“Right, you’d better drop me off first.”

They’d all finally finished clearing up from second – or, human-time – breakfast. It had actually been fun. Domestic, sure, but he liked the banter. The relaxation of it. They were in no rush to go anywhere, do anything. The universe would wait for them. For this big, strange band of adventurers. The best part was, anytime he made a good joke, or told a PG-rated story, he could see The Doctor just _beaming_ across at him. He tried to ignore the buzz it gave him. To see her smiling because of him.

Yaz had returned, joining the conversation effortlessly after taking human paracetamol to very little avail. Their hangovers were clearly all still going strong, as much as Graham was pretending to be over his. The Master could catch the flashes of amusement radiating from The Doctor each time they whined. It seemed downright cruel to drop them into any trouble today, but he was sure The Doctor would manage – best intentions aside.

Not that The Master would ever find out. He was sure.

He had to brace himself for survival on yet another desolate rock for a few hundred years.

“No!”

“You don’t have to go!”

“Stay!”

The Doctor seemed as surprised as he did at the chorus of humans coming to his defence.

But no.

He could go. Should go.

She’d want him to go. Plus, he didn’t have to care about her anymore. His caring duties were done. She was rescued, had recovered. His debt repaid.

“Always good to have two Galli-e-freyans on board, right Doc?”

Graham? _Graham_ was backing him? Things were taking a bizarre turn.

“Gallifreyans,” Yaz corrected, prompting The Doctor to finally break out of her surprise.

_Contact._

_Contact._

_I should go._

He wanted her to say it. To ask him to travel with her again. Although, he had nowhere else to go.

_I guess you could travel with us. For a bit. For old times’ sake?_

_If you’re sure you can stand my company._ He teased.

_Well, you can’t blow up any planets if you’re with me, I guess. Unless you really try. So that’s a bonus._

Unspoken. She was setting out terms. Telling him: ‘You won’t try.’

He could live with that.

They’d barely been communicating for a few seconds, but the humans were already looking confused.

_Surprised your pets are so keen for me to join…_

She cut him off.

“You can stay, if you want?”

He agreed verbally, to weak cheers from her _fam_ , and a warm feeling projected into his head from Theta.

Seconds after that revelation, he was left alone with his thoughts. The humans all started debating where to go, some kind of touristy-Atlas in-front of them.

When he looked up, The Doctor was just watching him.

He couldn’t read her, couldn’t tell what was going on behind her mental shields and those big brown eyes. The Master had no idea whether The Doctor wanted to hug him, or crush his jugular.

They’d always had a strange way of showing affection.

Suddenly, she broke their stare, clapping once again to get the humans’ attention. Like the night before, the lot of them winced.

“God, can you get her to stop doing that?” Ryan grumbled, appealing to The Master. He just shrugged.

“Oi, why doesn’t he hang a hangover?” Graham was equally disgruntled.

The Doctor shot The Master a smirk before she answered, one so slight that her companions all missed it.

“Time Lords don’t get hangovers.”

He nodded in enthusiastic confirmation as the humans groaned at the _unfairness_ of it all. The Master gave them his best grin, as if he hadn’t found himself slumped against the cold tile of the shower this morning, struggling not to hurl.

“That can’t be true!” Yaz protested, and Graham nodded his agreement. The Time Lords both shrugged.

“Sorry gang, superior biology!”

She always, _always_ bragged with such dumb flourish, flexing a clothed bicep like an absolute dork. It was enough to make the The Master finally laugh. Sometimes, he remembered why they were friends.

Oh, she was going to hate this.

“Are you three familiar with party planets yet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chunky chapter, since I've decided to extend the plot! Sorry I posted this one a little slow!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor won't let them party... yet.

Absolute spoilsport.

Theta wouldn’t let them visit a party planet. Not today. Not while the rocking of the TARDIS still had her companions threatening to throw up.

“Something relaxing,” she’d insisted. “That’s what you all need. To relax.”

And relax her companions did.

Yaz had donned a sundress, long and yellow and flowy, and the Master gave her an approving nod as she left. There was a flash of irritation from The Doctor as Yaz smiled, making him smile uncontrollably. The boys had found some stupid Hawaiian shirts, much to The Doctor’s excitement, and it took a moment of bullying to convince her against finding her own problem patterned garment.

“That shirt is loud enough on its own, dearest.”

Her companions were having a great time, trekking through the unpopulated beach planet. It was no resort – he suspected The Doctor didn’t want him around large crowds – and that was a relief.

He had to admit, this place was gorgeous. Unspoiled by any smart apex predators, it was raw and beautiful in a way he rarely saw. Frankly, there was usually no reason for him to visit somewhere uncivilised, without components to buy or mischief to make. Here, feeling the give of sand beneath his boots, the brush thin grass against his shins, as he walked, he understood why she’d visit.

The whole sky looked like a sunset, a shifting gradient of oranges and pinks, far less angry than the red of Gallifrey and less startling than the blue of earth. The land was flat, smattered with the single purplish stalks of primitive trees, barely reaching higher than his shoulder height. He could see for miles, unobstructed. Even the plants here had no sense of competition, without need to fight for sunlight or water, peacefully co-existing a few paces from each other.

Most startling was the beach, clear of any plants and stretching forever, the water meeting the shore without cresting waves. In fact, there was near silence.

For a moment, the five of them were gobsmacked, stood in a line on the border between land and sea. The whole environment was undisturbed apart from their footprints, in one wonky line from the foliage line.

He would visit. In a few million years. In a body many generations ago, purely to eat himself into a stupor on some particularly exciting native berries as he planned his next _venture_. It would become a busy party zone, for the super-rich to drop cash on psychedelics.

Now, though, nothing of this landscape betrayed that. There wasn’t a single trace of that debauchery yet. Just these three gentle, ignorant humans, and a pair of Time Lords. The only breaks in the landscape. The only sentient people on this whole planet.

It was a power trip, in its own way. Maybe the kind of power trip Theta craved. To be an ancient force, to know so much in this new, ignorant world.

She liked to feel like that around the humans. To know more. Blow their minds with every word that came out of her mouth, true or otherwise. Their company made her feel smart, important. He wondered if she’d grow to resent him being there; just as ancient, just as wise.

They laughed at his jokes, too. Were wowed by him. He joined in their banter. They liked it when he pointed things out. He could cut The Doctor off mid-ramble to a smattering of giggles. All it took was a quick mental apology when Theta pouted.

She understood, though. He knew she did. He only wanted to make them laugh for her.

Plus, deep down, she liked it when he teased. He could meet her at her level like no one else in this universe.

“This whole planet’s coast is beach! No cliffs, it’s all sand! The rock is extremely porous, so it always turns into beach!”

Her companions drank in each fact The Doctor told them, admiring their surroundings as she spoke, taking each word as gospel.

If only they knew.

He jumped in when she finally paused for a breath.

“It reforms very quickly, too. The beaches regenerate when the sand crystalizes overnight.” The Master kicked at the sand as he spoke, watching how it coated his heavy boot. “Which means that the coastline doesn’t erode very far. There will should a huge civilisation here, just give it a few million years.”

“Wow… ”

Their tour-guide extraordinaire even seemed surprised by that tidbit. She fixed him with suspicious eyes, like he might somehow be _cheating_ in this competition for human admiration.

 _Contact_.

He ignored her.

There were patches of orange under the pink sand he’d kicked away, and the companions were very quickly distracted investigating it. Theta watched with curiosity, as he walked over to join her.

“Been reading up?”

“It’ll be a while before I’m here, but I’m assuming the geology won’t have changed.”

She sighed, watched the horizon instead of his face. She radiated coldness. A little sadness mixed in.

“What?”

“Will you destroy it? When you come?” Her voice was a whisper, afraid of the companions hearing. The less they knew about him the better.

“Theta…”

“Do you destroy it?”

Ferocity. Anger.

“No.” He smiled, remembering the people more than the place. They’d laughed at his beard, back then. But he’d laughed along. “I had friends here. I quite enjoyed the place.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief, and he took it as some type of apology. In their own, stubborn way.

“It’s amazing, how much of the universe I’ve still to visit. Every time I think I’m done, there’s more,” she sighed.

There were very few people left in space and time who could understand that like he could.

All of time. All of space.

Their God-like lifespans couldn’t compare to that of the universe. Everything that was happening all at one, in all the places they could be. There was more happening in this very second than they could experience in their whole, phenomenal lifespans. It was infuriating. Wonderful. It drove him mad to think about, sometimes.

She might be the only person who could attempt to see everything. Live everything. Maybe Theta could try to experience _forever_ itself, in an infinite amount of bodies. She might never stop, not like he would have to.

They were different now. She’d have to leave him behind.

“I can understand that.”

He fought not to dwell on it, not to let it make him angry.

“I’ve always wanted to follow one planet, from its creation, right up until it’s destruction! Pop in every few centuries, see how the people evolve, change.”

Beneath the surface of the water here, it was already happening. The creation of the short, elegant creatures which would inhabit this place. Being shaped by the planet, until they were strong enough to shape it. He wanted to watch it happen, with her.

An adventure for another day.

“Don’t you do that with earth? Visit constantly, meet people from all over?” He gestured back to the companions, who were making sandcastles. Probably creating historic artefacts, doing that.

“Always got a bit stuck on the turn of the twenty-first century, honestly.”

He didn’t ask why. Strangely, since Gallifrey, he wanted to challenge her less. Now he knew what they’d done. They’d messed with her mind. He didn’t need her to explain herself.

She’d still come out better than him, despite it all.

He watched the horizon too.

*

Once the water was deemed safe the humans waded in, Yaz leading the charge, gasping as she and the boys explored the evolving ecosystem beneath the water’s surface.

Back on shore, Theta had removed her coat, laying it out like a blanket so she could recline on the beach. She sat down right next to the elaborate sandcastles they’d been roped into constructing (The Master felt sure his was the most architecturally successful, guard towers included. Graham had won the ‘competition’, though, with a rather shapeless dog structure).

He mimicked Theta, leaving a foot between them before he sat on his own coat, taking a moment to just listen. He still wasn’t used to the silence. The stillness. He couldn’t help scanning the beach for intruders, straining his ears for a growl or a shout. But there was nothing.

“Unsettling, isn’t it?”

The Doctor had her eyes closed against the warm sunlight, but he knew her senses would be searching in the same way. On overdrive, starving for stimulus, waiting for the panicked shout of a human, or the shaking of an earthquake. The next disaster.

He wondered if all Time Lords were engineered that way, or if it was just them.

“No.”

“You’re lying,” she accused, still not moving. “Places like this always make me nervous.”

“Hm. Waiting for the maniac with the bomb?”

His joke fell flat. The Doctor didn’t give him a reply, not even a huff of a laugh. She let him sit there. Languish. Cruel.

He joined her in laying flat, squinting up at the sky. The drums in his head were faint these days. So faint that it took a planet without wind, without macro-organisms, to hear them.

He tapped the rhythm out on his thigh – sure Theta had noticed but too felt uncomfortable to care.

It took him twenty minutes, until Theta started to fidget, to speak again.

“Humans get hungry, right?”

*

The Doctor had been beyond excited at the prospect of a picnic, dashing to the waterline to breathlessly inform ‘the fam’ they’d be back soon, before bounding ahead of The Master all the way to the TARDIS.

Her energy was relentless. He could remember that now. That blonde mop of hair had been plenty of different colours, but it was always running ahead of him, wet with rain or knotted with wind. The familiarity of it all, in this tranquil spot, felt incredibly surreal.

There was childlike nostalgia, too, at the prospect of creating a picnic. They’d often snuck into the Academy kitchens late in the night cycle, giggled at the sheer options of food to pinch, knowing full well they couldn’t cook.

Nowadays, his time on earth had taught The Master some human cooking basics. The same clearly wasn’t true of The Doctor, as she tried to cram anything and everything sweet into an ancient wicker basket.

He was glad for her enthusiasm. For the opportunity to avoid the potential wealth of awkwardness this experience could have brought about. It was the first time it was just the two of them on the TARDIS, no companions to sneak around, and he knew she didn’t fully trust him yet. He had the TCE. The upper hand on physical strength. He desperately wanted this TARDIS. And yet he was here, spreading butter on bread while she constructed carefully personalised sandwiches for each of the five of them. He wasn’t certain he could stomach his – even if she thought PB and J and crisps was an inspired choice – but the thought warmed his hearts.

As a mercy for her companions, he threw in some plainer lunch options whist her back was turned.

Theta caught him, though. And her soft smile alone made caring about these humans worth it.

It was overwhelming, being alone with her. Their history permeated every space of the room, their clashing telepathic fields making every synapse in his brain fire in a way he rarely had need to do.

Together, in a TARDIS, in peacetime, it was what their wide-eyed past selves had craved.

Panic was rising in his throat.

He had to get out.

Theta followed, as he left the kitchen and flung open the TARDIS’ doors, unable to form a single word to explain his frantic need to just _move_. She said nothing, as though she could sense the stormy waves in his mind, contrasting the flatness of this calming landscape. He finally slowed, allowing their feet to fall in a comfortable rhythm, even as she struggled to carry everything. He wordlessly took the picnic basket, leaving her clutching a raggedy old blanket to her chest.

He hated how comfortable the silence was. How much he was enjoying this _peace._ It should be weird. She kept defusing him.

They’d barely been gone a half hour, but when they returned Ryan had managed to scrape his foot on a coral. It wasn’t bad. Certainly not as bad as The Doctor had originally panicked. Just a little more blood than seemed ideal. It didn’t need any medical treatment beyond a quick, painless repair from the sonic. Whilst Graham had gone pale, Ryan was barely even bothered, just reluctant to return to the water.

The picnic served as a great distraction, and Theta fussed until the humans were settled on the blanket. Both Time Lords kept a little more distance – laying their coats out to form a circle around the basket, bodies sinking into the soft, warm sand.

They unpacked the food like an exciting assortment of birthday gifts, and Theta lead the charge, buzzing with happiness that her companions liked her surprise. Contentment was radiating off her in waves, and The Master had to make a conscious effort to avoid absorbing it too much. Eventually, everyone was assigned a portion of something to eat, and the chatter lulled, giving way to lunch.

No one appreciated the food more than Graham, he noted. He’d devoured one half of his sandwich before The Master had even unwrapped his food.

“Finally, an alien who remembers to eat!”

It’s his way of thanking The Master, and it’s strangely appreciated. Yaz and Ryan hum their agreement, and Theta beams. She’s not eating much herself (neither is he, to be fair. Time Lords, blah blah) but she’s clearly enjoying the whole experience.

Normally he’d bristle at being called any old ‘alien’, by a human no less, but The Master couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“The Doctor always forgets we need snacks,” Yaz explains, sipping from her soda can before wedging it back in the sand.

He laughed at Theta’s affronted look along with the rest of them.

“Yaz is the worst for getting hangry, too.” Ryan cut in.

She shot him a glare.

“What about Graham? He whines like nothing on earth!”

The older man nodded sagely, chewing before he replied.

“Ah, you see, I always bring my own snacks! Smart.”

*

He felt quite content to watch them all chat and bicker, laying back on his elbows and watching the sky take on a purple tint. Theta was clearly in her element, laughing with her mouthful as they took it in turns to try the more questionable sandwiches she’d contributed.

The Master was snapped out of his daze when he heard his name.

“Good thing The Master’s here, wouldn’t have had a single thing to eat without him.” Ryan joked.

“That’s not true!”

“Yes it is, I was always the cook between us.” He chuckled.

His cocked eyebrow was enough to make Theta admit defeat.

“True. I always had the useful skills.”

“Such as…?”

“Better pilot. Better-”

“Better pilot?”

He had to cut her off, even though he’s aware of the eyes of her companions on him. From how Graham spoke to O, from their drunken night in the library, he knew how desperate they were for information about their friend.

“Yes, a better pilot!” Theta frowned, running her fingers through the sand in front of her. She was sitting up, cross-legged, leaning forwards.

“You failed your test six times!”

“No sense of adventure, those instructors. Too picky about ‘exact dates and times’.” She smirked, infuriating and endearing in equal measure. “How many people can pilot a TARDIS single-handedly, huh?”

The raised a single index finger.

Both people who could pilot a TARDIS singlehandedly them were sat on the same beach.

A sudden silence fell across the group, lead by the shift in The Doctor’s mood. Almost the second it happened, The Master found himself regretting his moment of morbidity. The light air suddenly felt heavy, like it was preceding rain.

Yaz was brushing out her still-damp hair with her fingers, looking curiously between the two Time Lords at the abrupt end in their banter.

“So, you two grew up together?”

The short answer was yes. The long answer involved a little more strangeness, a little more trauma he didn’t want to trawl through. There was no mentioning the Academy without the horrors that came with Gallifrey. Without their treatment of Theta.

He wasn’t sure what abbreviation of the truth she’d want to tell them, but Theta wasn’t speaking. Probably for the best. He’d always been a better liar than her.

“We went to school together. Neither of us were, you could say, traditional Time Lords. So we got on pretty well.”

“And then you turned evil?”

Graham was spectacularly tactless. The Master held his stony-faced expression just long enough to panic everyone in their little circle.

“Well, ‘evil’ is a rather strong word. I’d say I… got bored.”

As predicted, the rain broke. Hot, like a shower that bordered on burning, and the humans were keen to get back to the TARDIS as quick as possible.

It was near impeccable timing, he pondered, as Theta took the distraction to cram everything back into the basket, the humans pulling the blanket and their jackets onto their heads for protection. While her companions ran the short distance back to the TARDIS, their tougher skin meant the Time Lords could take a quick stroll.

“Convenient distraction…” he pondered.

She didn’t engage.

That was fine.

He wondered, later, as they laid on adjacent library sofas, how she adapted to living on a human schedule. The companions had barely stayed awake the length of a movie before going back to their beds for a night. Theta would be alone again. Limited day time, with long nights of boredom, he supposed that might make their endless questions tolerable.

What she normally did during the nights he had no idea, but he could get used to this. Tea, reading from the ship’s endless library, lazy conversations by a gentle fire? Maybe not forever, but for now, he felt a tiny grain of peace, fighting the firey rage inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: The Master gets his trip of choice...
> 
> I am obsessed with the next chapter. It's been my plan since the start. Note the change of tags... ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be the ultimate test of my characterisation skills, which you’ve all been very kind about to date <3\. It’s also a long-un, hence the slower posting. Buckle up, cowfolk

It took a few trips, a few sober nights, before the humans were ready to help him _nag_ The Doctor all the way to a party planet.

Blue Saturn 4 was an absolute favourite of The Master’s, and fortunately this body hadn’t been banned here yet. So, exciting.

Something felt wrong the second they landed. It was a foreboding feeling, low-level, pulling at his extra senses. The humans couldn’t pick it up, but he could see it in The Doctor’s eyes. Something was wrong here.

_Contact?_

_Contact._

The night air was pleasantly warm as they stepped out, and for once he regretted wearing a blazer. The club areas would be unbearable. He was already hot, and they were just walking through the extravagant resort outside, full of partiers who were already hammered.

_What is it?_

_I think I know._

_What?_

Silence.

His eyes scanned every person, every _thing_ , adjusting to the bright, flashing lights and tacky tropical theme in a desperate attempt to catch the problem.

_Doctor. What is it?_

Silence.

He was getting worried.

 _Tell me, Theta—_ BUMP.

He’d walked clean into the back of The Doctor, gripping her shoulders in panic. She shook him off quickly, and he leant around her, desperate to see what had her so transfixed.

Rassilion.

This place.

There was a naked man in the pool.

“Jack?!”

The man turned around in shock, waist deep and surrounded by adoring strangers, taking a moment to process the crowd of five staring at him from the poolside.

“Doctor?!”

He didn’t miss the red tint of a blush painted across her face as Jack bounded out of the pool, pulling The Doctor into a damp hug. Embarrassment aside, Theta had a huge grin, hugging him back. They finally broke their embrace, and Jack grabbed a towel to wrap about his waist, after Theta’s awkward hug.

She still hadn’t thought to introduce him, but the companions seemed to recognise the man, stepping around The Master to greet the man.

Theta was in disbelief.

“What are you going here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” The man replied. Earth American. Strange.

Behind him in the pool were a slowly disbanding group, humanoid and otherwise, all watching the exchange with drunken curiosity.

“Let’s talk about _you!_ They told me you regenerated as a woman, but no one mentioned you’re this pretty!”

Theta tried to brush off the compliment, but let him twirl her around, laughing at his wolf-whistling. The Master looked away, towards the companions who looked baffled by the whole interaction. He rolled his eyes, just as he caught Yaz doing the same.

Interestingly, The Master missed his introduction. It happened privately between Jack and The Doctor. He had no idea who Jack thought he was, but introducing himself as The Master could land him in hot water anywhere across the universe. He simply shook the man’s hand, ignoring the shudder of discomfort being near him seemed to bring.

“Captain Jack Harkness! Any friend of The Doctor’s is a friend of mine,” he said, “and once I’ve found my clothes, I’ll buy you all some drinks.”

*

Jack Harkness apparently had his own booth reserved inside the club. They were guided to it without any quibble from the waiter before being poured glasses of champagne. It was a quieter area, separated by a barrier from the main thoroughfare and dance floor of the club. Things were only really warming up here for the casual partygoer. Trust Theta to arrive to a club _early_.

Without her old friend to distract her, she was back to fretting over her companions.

“You guys had met Jack before, right?”

They all reassured her yes, of course they had met Jack. She knew that. Theta seemed far more interested in The Master’s answer.

“I can’t remember him.” A lie, but a harmless one. In truth, he did barely remember the man. It had been centuries. “Who is he?”

“A Time Agent. He travelled with me, for a bit.”

Hm. Maybe it was some kind of artron energy trace which made him uncomfortable around the man. He hoped to Rassilion it was. He wasn’t quite sure he could cope if the issue was _emotional_. Gross.

Maybe The Doctor felt the same unease near him. That’s why they didn’t travel together anymore. He’d cope for tonight, though. Especially if the free drinks kept coming.

“Champagne!” Came the booming American accent of Jack Harkness, freshly dressed in crumpled formal shirt and trousers. “Now _this_ is my kind of adventure, Doctor.”

He took his glass from Theta with a _cheers_ , extending it towards The Master and the companions before downing it in one go.

“Let’s get to the real stuff, huh?”

Theta rolled her eyes, accepting a cocktail menu from their server nonetheless, debating various different options with Jack (who could review every single one of them).

He didn’t miss the way the other Time Lord had waited for everyone else to slide into the booth, sliding on the bench next to The Master. Putting herself between him, and Jack.

The man was enigmatic. Clearly, from the crowd of admirers he’d amassed in the pool. Even the waiters recognised him. He’d obviously been here a while, too, but seemed pretty sober. Jack ordered them all drinks: singles for the companions and triple strength for himself and the Time Lords. The Master braced himself for one hell of a night.

*

Jack was an absolute _fiend_. He partied like the world was ending, and drank like a creature ten times his size. The Master quite liked him.

The companions had long since given up trying to keep up, accepting that they simply weren’t biologically able to keep up with Jack and the Gallifreyans. The Master had assumed Jack was human, but since he was out-pacing him significantly, maybe there was more to that story. It could wait. These cocktails were _exquisite._

He’d tried almost all of them by now, and he liked them. The bar had this wonderful system of delivering mixed drinks right to the middle of the booth tables. It would be rude not to take the next glass that popped up when his own was drained.

The humans weren’t faring well. The drinks here were not meant for them, as The Doctor kept reminding them. Graham was almost snoring, while Ryan and Yaz were engaged with people watching, drawing glares from passers-by when their jokes were shouted too loud.

Theta wasn’t drinking nearly enough, sticking safely within her tolerance for staying near sober. He leant across her to talk to Jack, keen to rectify the situation.

“Shots?”

“Ye-es!” Jack moaned, drawing attention with how inappropriate he sounded.

His grin matched The Master’s, as Theta buried her face in her hands.

“There’s this great earth game, you might not have heard of: Never Have I Ever?”

Of course The Master was familiar. The humans and Jack talked over each other with excitement, somehow managing to explain the rules to a very confused Doctor through their cross-talk.

Graham was already looking for excuses to leave when trays of brightly coloured shots were delivered, and Theta carefully separated out the weaker ones for the human side of the booth. They were left with some particularly nasty purple ones, apparently a favourite of Jack’s. Unbearably strong. He liked the way this man thought.

They started easy. The humans were tame.

“Never ‘ave I ever… passed out drunk.”

“Oh, this is hard. Uh, never have I ever failed my driver’s test.”

“Never cheated on a test.”

Yaz grinned as everyone else drank, Graham and Ryan exchanging equally confused looks with each other.

“Did they even have tests back when you was at school?”

They all chuckled politely at Ryan’s joke, even as Jack side-eyed the Time Lords. It was cute that Ryan thought _Graham_ was old.

Jack took a moment to watch the group before his question. Beside him, he could hear Theta holding her breath. She’d had all three shots so far. Him and Jack had too, in fairness, but she didn’t drink as a rule. He was concerned and excited in equal measure to see her _hammered_.

It didn’t escape his notice when she started reaching for the weaker shots from the humans’ side of the table. He decided to let it slide.

Finally, Jack decided on a question.

“Never have I ever… had a crush on a different species.”

Obviously their side of the booth took their shots through laughter, Jack poking at Theta’s ribs to try and get specifics out of her.

“Was it me, Doc? I’m flattered,” the Time Agent teased.

The Master noticed Yaz taking a shot, as subtly as she could. She wouldn’t get away that easily, even if Graham and Ryan were too drunk off cocktails to notice.

“A progressive human! Welcome to the dark side, Yaz.”

The Master winked, and Yaz practically stopped breathing. Next to him, he could feel The Doctor’s thoughts slipping through her barriers. She was _bristling_ with anger. Good.

“My turn,” she declared suddenly, “never have I ever… thrown such a bad tantrum my TARDIS wouldn’t move for a week.”

The Master huffed dramatically as he went to drink, hoping his glass would hide is smile. He’d forgotten about that. The first few years after the Academy had been… volatile to say the least. Theta was giggling at the memory too.

“No targeting!” Jack reminded her, as if there was any other way to play this game.

Yaz and Ryan were already tipsy, knocking over empty glasses as they tried to clear them. Around them, the bar was getting noisier, even in their distant corner. The lights were lower, the black and deep red of the décor creating some illusion of privacy from the mainly humanoid dancers flooding the floor. Fortunately, these booths had some muffling in place, so they could all hear each other without too much shouting.

The soundproofing meant The Master could hear as Jack cleared his throat, making his attention jolt back to the game at hand. Away from all those writhing bodies, flirting and grinding and sweating on the dancefloor.

Right. His turn.

Another tray of drinks silently appeared, chinking against the empty shot glasses littering the table.

“Never have I ever been kicked out of TARDIS piloting classes for incompetence.”

And so, making Theta take a shot, he kicked off another round.

Graham, Ryan, Yaz, Jack, Theta, then back to him.

“Never ‘ave I ever written off a car.”

“Never ‘ave I ever totalled a _motorbike_.”

“Never ‘ave I ever tried an illegal drug.”

“Never have I ever done an earth driving test.”

“Never have I ever passed an earth driving test first time.”

“Never have I ever…” he took a second to quirk his eyebrow at the humans, “been blindfolded during sex.”

Ryan. Jack. Theta. Interesting.

He heard Theta mumble something which couldn’t have possibly been ‘bullshit’ under her breath.

“I’m gonna call it a night folks,” came the tired voice of Graham. Finally. He’d been ready to pack up for a while, The Master could tell. “Gettin’ too old for this. Have a good time, kids!”

Everyone gave weak offers to help him back to the TARDIS, but he waved them all off. The older man hadn’t actually drunk that much, despite a few surprises over the course of the first two rounds of the game. He’d mainly succeeded in making Ryan unbearably embarrassed.

A victory in Graham’s eyes, he was sure.

Once the older man had left things got rather more… messy.

“Never have I ever… tried to cockblock my best mate and my sister,” Ryan smirked, and both Jack and The Master screwed up their faces to think. Yaz sighed.

“You leave Sonya alone! Never have I ever pretended to pass out to get out of P.E.”

Maybe to end the bickering, maybe out of sincerity, The Doctor drank alongside Ryan. The Master laughed. He could remember that. Just as funny at the time, too.

“Never have I ever changed body,” Jack announced, in a move which The Master felt rather unfairly targeted Time Lords.

Species-ism, that was.

“Never have I ever lost a sword fight!”

“Who here has, Doc?”

“Shut up you two. I’m excellent at sword fighting.”

She rather missed the point, busy side-eyeing The Master, before realising he was _not_ going to drink of his own accord.

“ _You_ lost a swordfight! To me!” She reminded him.

The companions were already laughing. Far too drunk, that lot. Definitely. They’d never mock him sober. Never.

“Lifetimes ago.” He sniffed.

His glass was already in hand.

“Hm,” she agreed. “back when you had that big old forehead.”

“You had frilly sleeves.”

“Yep! Drink up!”

And so he did.

The Master found himself blanking, after thinking back to those days. They’d been at each other’s’ throats for so long. That was half the problem, with this game. After few millennia of life, there wasn’t much left to have _never_ done. Rassilion, was it his turn again?

“Never… been on a cruise!”

He knew it was a naff answer. Only Jack and The Doctor drank.

But suddenly the boundaries on this game were _so_ tight. To not let on too much about himself to Jack. To not cross any lines the humans might be upset by. And most strange: to not upset Theta. To let her have a night without gloating, or bringing up anything traumatic. It would be too easy, to bring up their past. To remind her of the less pleasant parts of their history, which he wanted her to push to the back of her mind. If his answer was naff, that was better than painful.

Ryan went next.

“Never have I ever… kicked a Pting!”

Yaz held her head high, even as she was the only one to drink. He’d have to hear that story one day. What the hell was a Pting?

“Never have I ever had straight sex.”

Yaz couldn’t have looked more smug, and she had every right to. Everyone else at the table reached for a glass. The Master caught her watching him, searching for a reaction, and he held her gaze as he raised the shot to his lips.

Satisfaction followed the burn, as he saw Yaz squirm.

Oh, he wouldn’t follow up on it, but it was _fun_ to flirt with her.

Jack broke the tension with a laugh.

“Smart! Uh… ” he looked around for inspiration, before gasping. “Never have I ever had sex with a Time Lord!”

All eyes were on them. He knew it.

Suddenly, he felt hot. Too close to Theta.

Moving away would be awkward though, right? That would be worse. Right?

That damn Gallifreyan guilt was rearing its ugly head. That was why his hands were shaking. That, or it was the booze. Whatever it was, it was _definitely_ not Theta. The Doctor. Whatever he was meant to call her.

The shot burned on the way down, and he knew Theta was wincing too. He put the glass down as gently as he could manage, with his co-ordination impaired, but it didn’t help the fact they were centre of attention.

Theta was struggling to speak. Finally, she broke the tense silence which had fallen over the table.

“Never have I ever eaten kiwi fruit.”

“What?”

“It just never came up. Never tried one.”

It was the most pissed off he’d been about a drink for a while, but at least it was a distraction.

He followed suit.

“Never have I ever been to a water park.”

“ _How?_ ”

“It’s never appealed to me.”

Just like that, it was forgotten. That brief flash into their past. Their ignorant, wonderful past. Theta could forget about what could have been, should have been, between them. Yet again.

She was chatting to Jack and the companions about the best water parks, promising to take them all, especially The Master. To convince him that he’d _love_ water parks. All the adrenaline and half-naked visitors. He tried to take solace in the fact he’d get to watch The Doctor try and figure out appropriate swim wear.

That would be good. Not because of the half-naked thing. But because it would be funny. Of course.

Sweetness and politeness aside, it was far more fun to make Theta uncomfortable. And him and Jack excelled at that. Despite her best efforts to steer the questions into purer territory, the humans were only too happy to help.

“Never have I ever had sex in a pool.”

Ryan’s question. Jack drank.

“Never have I ever had sex in my parents’ house.”

Yaz’s question. Jack and Ryan drank. Apparently, Theta had decided that their academy rooms didn’t count, so he didn’t drink either. She didn’t meet his eye.

“Never have I ever had sex with more than a fivesome.” Jack declared.

Ryan and Yaz’s jaws dropped, until the pair laughed at their twin reactions. No one drank, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“Boring.”

“Isn’t a fivesome just an orgy?” Yaz was stumbling over her words, which only made everything even more hysterical.

“More than three is an orgy.” Ah, Ryan. The expert chimed in.

“Nu-uh! Four can be swingers.”

The Master voiced his agreement with Yaz, just for the way it made her look at him, before Jack jumped in.

“It goes: masturbation, couple, threesome, swingers, fivesome, orgy.” He counted on his fingers.

“A fivesome is just an orgy!”

And they were off again, arguing with stumbled-over words, all gesturing wildly. Beside him, Theta was _bright pink,_ silent to the discussion. Her latest empty shot glass was clenched in her hands.

The Master wondered if this was a new-body thing. This was a new level of sexually shy, even for her more recent regenerations. He hoped it wouldn’t last.

“Never have I ever tried chocolate strawberries.”

Nobody even bothered to drink on The Doctor’s questions anymore. The Master could feel her frustration was growing with every ignored question.

“Never have I ever have sex in zero gravity.” The Master laughed.

No takers. Ah, well. Future plans.

“Oooh! Good idea!”

Jack reached across Theta to high-five him, making Theta bury her face in her hands.

The game got harder and harsher with each round. Finally, they found the line too far. To The Master’s surprise, it wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even from him or Jack.

Oh, Yaz.

“Never have I ever… been in love!”

Their giggling stopped as Jack, The Master, and The Doctor drank. Theta barely moved to take her shot. He wondered if she was getting tired.

With one particularly laboured breath, he realised she was on-edge. Panicking. Like a deer in headlights. Resisting the urge to run.

Given that Jack was here alone, he suspected the man’s quick drinking of his shot was probably hiding some equally strong reaction.

He tried not to think about his own love and loss. Too much. Too deep for a stupid fucking _human game_. He had no idea how old Yaz was, but he guessed too young to realise what love was like, when you lived as long as them.

The muffled sounds of the club suddenly felt close, overwhelming. He was sure if Theta and Jack weren’t blocking him in, he’d be gone already.

Bless Ryan. Either a genius, or tone deaf.

“Fu-uck. I am hammered. I don’t know if I can make another round of this.”

“Hard same.” Yaz agreed.

The Master was honestly surprised they’d made it that far. Good on ‘ya, humans.

He teased them anyway, though.

“Boo-oo. That’s no fun!”

“Are you guys okay?”

The Doctor took a slightly more caring line. Back to her usual self. Life of the party. Constant worrier.

“Yup. All good, just need to stop drinking for a second.” Yaz reassured her, one hand reaching across the table to her.

Theta nodded seriously, ignoring Yaz’s outstretched hand.

“Spin the bottle?” Jack proposed, voice booming.

Before he could even request a bottle, Ryan and Yaz had quickly vacated the booth, mumbling about finding a dance floor. Jack and The Master found themselves in peals of laughter as The Doctor fought to maintain composure.

“How did you find this lot?”

Jack wiped a tear from his eye as he downed the rest of his drinks, signalling to a waitress for something different.

“Helped me out when I was regenerating.” She laughed at Jack’s expression. “They’re like, more of a family dynamic.”

“Ah,” Jack raised his eyebrows pointed at The Master

“Finally some companions you’re not trying to sleep with!”

“Jack!”

From anyone else, The Master wouldn’t stand this rudeness towards Theta. From Jack? It was fucking hysterical.

“Time Lords don’t get bus-ay, blah blah, I get it.”

Oh, this guy was definitely an ex-companion of The Doctor’s. Only The Doctor would stick to that old lie.

“Bullshit. Time Lords just pretend they don’t.”

A waitress appeared at their table, and they paused their conversation to order drinks. The Master found the nearest thing on the menu to a martini, and tried not to look at the price. This place was definitely for high rollers. He sincerely hoped he wouldn’t be asked to foot his own bill.

Once the waitress had left, Jack hadn’t dropped the subject.

“So, you were just letting me down easy then, Doctor?”

It was a tease, but they both noticed how close to breaking point she seemed. Jack reached for her. The Master was glad someone did. She wouldn’t accept the contact from him. Not yet, anyway.

“You should drink, Doc. You’re awful uptight these days!”

Theta sighed, returning his hug awkwardly as Jack tried to cuddle her into his side.

“Feels like we’re never safe from danger. They’re in my care. I can’t get too out of it. Something might happen”

Jack frowned at her like she was a child, even as his tone bordered on _serious_. Which would be a first for this guy.

“They know the risks when they come with you. Plus, we’re in one of the safest nightclubs for a hundred-thousand clicks. They’ll be _fine_ for one night.”

He took a moment to watch her face, that ridiculous pout she’d taken to since finishing her first drink, and the first invasive ‘would you rather’. Suddenly, The Master felt like an imposter to this scene. He wished he could nail down that unsettling feeling he got around Jack.

“You never know. I take them to the safest places I can think of, and one of them will end up arrested. Or hurt.”

He felt for her. He really did. Choosing to put so much of her love into such primitive, feeble-bodied creatures.

The Master was sure he was still sober enough to do this.

He had to close his eyes, but he managed to tune into the TARDIS. Oh, good.

_Contact._

“What?” she demanded.

Classy, Theta. So much for subtlety.

“The TARDIS says all three of them are already in bed. Won’t be awake for a day, probably.”

Jack snorted out a laugh.

“So much for going dancing.” His eyes lit up as their drinks arrived, passing The Master his martini look-a-like, before setting a huge, fruity pitcher in front of The Doctor.

“Looks like you’re off duty!” he declared, tapping his own jug against the brim of Theta’s. She beamed, her grin false but soon-to-be real, judging by the smell of those pitchers.

As she drank, The Master twirled the stick in his drink. He felt a tapping at his mind.

_Contact._

_Contact._

_Thank you_.

He downed his drink.

*

Fuckin’ Rassilion. Yet another round of drinks had appeared. He’d already said far too much. Laughed far too much. Told too many stories and shared too many jokes. Jack already felt like an old friend, and being around similarly well-travelled people was _fun_. Hearing their adventures. Not having to explain his own. It was so _easy_.

He was having a surprisingly good time but fuck, this martini would loosen his tongue enough to get them all arrested.

Theta seemed to agree. She’d caught up rather quickly, after lagging behind in drinks during their ‘would you rather’ game.

The Time Agent was pushing for ordering more, and The Master was quite glad Theta protested. He didn’t want to be the first to call it a night.

“We’re not all invincible, Jack! Quite a fan of this body, for now!”

Jack wolf-whistled jokingly, making her hit him lightly in the chest.

“I am too. The pair of you have upgraded, in fact.”

With the whole booth to share, Jack still managed to occupy both of their personal space. The Master felt fingers on his face, examining it, even whilst Jack managed to have his other arm wound around The Doctor’s waist, putting her body on top of his.

“Big fan, Master! Of the body, that is. Not the… other stuff. Y’know.”

Huh, Jack knew of him. And about the Time Lord stuff. He acknowledged the man with a tight smile, finishing his drink. Another appeared near instantly in the centre of the table.

He knew who he was, what he’d put Jack through, and he was still ordering him drinks.

They were a different breed, these friends that Theta made.

“I don’t know how you lot regenerate so pretty all the time. Totally unfair. I’m stuck with this mug every time.”

“There is _nothing_ wrong with that mug, Jack.” The Doctor slurred, laughing as Jack stared down at her and pulled faces.

“Speaking of… ” Jack set The Doctor’s empty beer bottle on it’s side, pointing it towards The Mater. “How about that game of ‘spin the bottle’?”

“No-o Jack!” she whined, and The Master tried to ignore the childish disappointment he felt, wrinkling his nose at her until she laughed.

Just minutes later their drinks were empty, and this was certainly the last round they’d mange. The Master was _not_ looking forward to the walk back to the TARDIS. He was exceedingly glad when Jack offered for them to crash in his hotel room.

“It’s not that far!” Theta insisted, trying to refuse despite the fact her spine seemed to have been replaced by slouching herself on Jack.

He’d never known her so touchy-feely.

“It _is_ that far,” The Master reminded her, struggling to keep his eyes open. The music was louder now, pounding in his head.

Suddenly, the excitement of chatting with Jack and Theta had passed, and all he wanted was a nap.

“I’ve got a king-size bed...”

“Dibs big spoon.” Theta mumbled into his chest.

*

The Master had no idea how they reached the room, he suspected some kind of assistive technology, or magic, was involved. Eventually, they left the lift and stumbled into Jack’s room.

It made the most sense for Theta to sleep in the middle, since she knew both of them. Good thing too, because she threw herself onto the covers the second she saw the bed. The Master had to fight to remove her boots and coat, and then his own, the sound of Jack washing his face in the en suite disorientating and loud in his ears. Eventually, he managed to wrestle her under the covers, following once his own boots and coat were thrown on the floor beside hers.

Jack took a few moments longer to come and crash out, flicking the lights off as he did. There was a few minutes of silence, and The Master assumed the others had found sleep.

Suddenly, Theta hissed at him in the dark.

“Koschei?”

“What?”

“Talk to the TARDIS for me?”

It took all his effort, his face so screwed up in concentration he was sure she’d feel it against the pillow, but he made contact.

“She says she’s fine. Humans are fine. Go to sleep.”

He could feel her wriggling to get comfortable, threatening to push him out of bed if he wanted to give her more space. He let her move until their knees were touching.

“Night, Koschei.”

“Night, Theta.”

“G’night, Kos-qui” Jack repeated, like a slurred echo.

He was going to kill that Time Agent. Tomorrow.

Tonight, he was too comfy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Local Idiot Time Lord Continues To Be Redeemed
> 
> (Please correct me if I got any lore wrong!)


	10. Chapter 10

A grunt woke The Master. He was aware of the sun peeking through curtains, the warm form beneath is left arm. _Shit_. Theta.

She was trying to get up without waking Jack, both her hands gripping his wandering arm to throw it off her ribcage. He threw a quick thanks to sleep-him for not accidentally groping her. That certainly wouldn’t help his hangover-regret.

Content he was awake, she clambered across his body, scurrying to the bathroom.

The Master rolled onto his back, waiting for her to come back. He knew his chances of sleep would be pretty slim now. Already, he’d had more sleep in the past few weeks than he had in months before he met The Doctor at the boundary to Gallifrey. He’d been suspiciously well-rested.

Theta didn’t sleep either, when she got back. She crawled awkwardly back into the middle of the bed. He stubbornly refused to shuffle up. In a bid to let Jack sleep a little longer, she stayed close to him. They’d opted to sleep in a ridiculous number of layers, but he could still feel the warmth radiating off her body, keeping the cold of the hotel air conditioning at bay. The hotel was silent around them, not a single noise, no doubt owing to the fact pretty much everyone else here was hungover.

For a moment, she lay still, eyes closed, as though she was trying to go back to sleep. Maybe metabolising the alcohol. He made the same choice. No need to face the day feeling miserable. As the chemicals broke down in his system, the world suddenly felt intense again. A cloud of numbness lifted, and he realised the ridiculousness of the situation.

The sound of Jack’s breathing filled the room, interrupted only by a slight rustling as Theta fidgeted in bed. Sober, being here felt so much further from a normal idea.

_Contact?_

She sounded a little unsure. Good. He wasn’t alone in this.

_Contact._

They lay in silence for a moment, a strange contentment pulsing through their bond. Neither of them could have peace very often. Rested. Recovering from a fun night. Yeah, contentment seemed correct. He fought to suppress any other feeling he could be sending her. The confusion, the regret he’d been harsh, any sorrow over the time they _weren’t_ doing this? That could all be boxed up, kept away from her.

As he moved, ignorant in sleep and unaware of their exchange, the third body in the bed felt like a threat. The man put The Master on edge even more than he had last night. Jealousy? Fear? Those feelings could join the others. Packed away. Safe from Theta.

_Fucking hell._

He felt the movement of her body next to him, as she stifled a giggle.

_That was fun._

Even though it was morning, the voice she projected into his head was sweet, gentler than she normally spoke. He indulged her.

_Yeah._

Her body was so warm next to his. Small. He imagined her skin was softer than it used to be. All those angles a bit less sharp.

She broke his train of thought.

_I’m a bit glad the fam left when they did, it could’ve gotten messy._

He didn’t reply, and she waited in silence.

_Does that make me a bad person? Being glad they left?_

_Not at all._

He thought about being cruel. Making her upset. It was second nature.

_They couldn’t have handled much more. I’m sure they would’ve had a worse night if they stayed._

There. That was right.

Reassurance. Kindness.

He was surprised how painless it was.

_I’m not sure Graham needed to know much more about his grandson, either._

He almost jumped as Theta’s hand moved, groping around until it found his.

_Thank you._

Minutes passed in silence, and the fight to keep his thoughts from spiralling, sending her the wrong message,

_I really love them. I do. It’s just… you and Jack…_

She trailed off, but he understood. That was the whole point of telepathy, he supposed. He could understand her when she couldn’t understand herself.

_Humans can’t understand. That’s what I find irritating about them. Sometimes you need… people like you_.

A bristle of irritation sparked across their bond, but she didn’t let go of his hand. He suspected it was for show, rather than genuine. The flare barely lasted long enough for him to register it. He had no doubt she loved them. Like you’d love a pet. Or a child.

But the two of them? They were equals.

_Could you-_

He cut her off. Saved the embarrassment of asking.

_TARDIS says they’re fine._

_Good._

*

They lay for a little longer, in silence, exchanging visions of occasional old memories, or new ones. They weren’t speaking a word, laid next to each other, eyes fixed on the shaft of light brightening on the sterile-white ceiling.

It would have looked strange, he reasoned. That was why Theta dropped his hand the second Jack began to stir. Why she severed their mental connection so quick.

He was a little startled by how much it _hurt_.

The Master was still reeling at the emptiness inside his own head as Jack drowsily began to speak to Theta. She laughed and clambered out of bed once again to fetch him water and painkillers. Barely thanking Theta, he stumbled out of bed, heading straight for the shower without a word to The Master. As the water ran, both Time Lords tried to reassemble their outfits a little.

They were rumpled, their heavy clothes creased by sleep, and probably not smelling great. The Master cringed as he replaced yesterday’s socks, fastening his boots while Theta rummaged in her coat pockets for a toothbrush, then a hairbrush.

He snatched up the blue plastic hairbrush the moment she left it on the counter, and he caught her laughing at him as he tried to reshape his hair. It flopped in his face without product. He growled.

After watching him struggle for a moment Theta grabbed the brush back, trying to fix a cowlick in her own hair. They both heard the water shut off in the bathroom, and Theta made sure to swipe up the toothbrush before he could. Damn.

“I’m gonna go to brush my teeth, then we’d best be leaving. The fam will be worried.”

“They’re asleep.” The Master deadpanned.

This worrying about humans… It was almost pathological.

“At least come and have breakfast!”

Catching the tail end of their conversation, Jack poked his head around the door of the bathroom. His hair sopping was wet, a white hotel towel tied around his waist. The Master was relieved to see Theta also felt uncomfortable with the Time Agent’s nakedness, staring up at the ceiling as the Jack crossed the room, hunting down a shirt.

Time Lord habits die hard.

Jack was still talking as he found underwear. The Master tried to look anywhere else.

“The food is good. It’s complimentary too! If you run fast enough.”

He threw Theta an exaggerated wink as he buttoned his trousers, and she smiled nervously. The Master rolled his eyes.

“I could eat. It’ll better than whatever’s in the TARDIS kitchen, I’m sure.” He conceded.

“Well, if you’re sure we’ll have time…”

“You’re not their mother, Doctor!” he snapped.

Shit. Maybe that hangover grumpiness was still here.

He stood by it, though. Every damn second of her time was spent _worrying_ about humans. Self-inflicted shackles, trapping her away from _real_ fun. _Real_ spontaneity.

Can’t stay out too long, the humans need sleep.

Can’t stray from her falsified moral code, there might be _pets_ watching.

Can’t spend too much time with him, her companions might get _jealous_.

In that moment he realised – it wasn’t the humans he hated. It was how she doted on them.

Even Jack felt the sudden tension in the room, putting on his shirt and suspenders without any more wisecracks. Theta stalked towards the bathroom, toothbrush clenched in her fist.

“I’m nicking your toothpaste, Jack.”

*

The Doctor had spent a while in the bathroom, leaving The Master to weather Jack’s curious glances. The Time Agent was packing up his hotel room, shoving things haphazardly into an off-the-shelf compression suitcase. It was a far cry from dimensional engineering, but clearly from the distant future, and The Master couldn’t help being a little impressed with how far this man – from an inferior species – had gotten.

“I’m guessing you’re not one for paying hotel bills, then?” he commented, as Jack shoved a few minibar bottles into the bag.

“God, no. Not unless I absolutely have to.”

“Good man.”

The Master thought for a moment, before grabbing a few bottles for himself. If it wouldn’t cause Jack any trouble, why not?

“It’s a nice place though. Might come back, if they’re still around in a few decades.”

“Better hope they don’t keep good records,” The Master smirked. “Death penalties for theft in this part of the galaxy. Barbarians.”

“I reckon I’ll be alright.”

“I like your attitude.”

“So, what’s your deal? Reformed now? Hanging out with The Doctor? Rainbows and kittens?”

Hm.

He crouched, seeing if there was anything good in the back of the fridge, pretending he hadn’t heard. That question didn’t warrant an answer. Humans, always so _black and white_.

The wine he was stealing was well-deserved, he felt.

Theta finally emerged from the bathroom, hair fixed, face washed, eyes rimmed red. She refused to meet The Master’s eye. Her voice caught a little in her throat as she spoke.

“Right then, breakfast?”

*

The Doctor found a massive mound of fruit, cereal and pastries for breakfast, while himself and Jack ordered from the menu. Far classier.

She didn’t wait for their food to arrive, hungry from metabolising all of last-night’s alcohol. The Master cursed himself a little for choosing the ‘more mature’ option. He was starving. Himself and Jack were left in silence, stirring their too-hot coffees and sipping at tiny glasses of water.

Mr. Time Agent suddenly had nothing to say, for once. Theta clearly felt the discomfort too, mouth finally free to speak as she smeared a heinous amount of jam onto some toast.

“Not often people have such a boring time sharing your bed, Jack!”

The Master choked on his drink as Jack’s bellowing laugh disrupted other hotel patrons. Theta watched him stifle a cough with amusement, the glint in her eye suggesting a little less innocence than she liked to exude.

“Such beautiful folks as you, too.” He faked a morose look, which had The Doctor giggling. “Seriously though. I can’t believe how pretty you guys are. Regeneration is _so_ much better than cosmetic surgery.”

Theta huffed.

“It’s not as if you’re aging particularly fast,” she pointed out. “Wonder what that’s about.”

“Must be some level of cellular rebuilding, I guess. I think I’ll get old eventually though.”

His tone betrayed a question, a little nervousness. Theta hummed and stuffed her face again, disguising a look which The Master recognised as familiar. The burden of _knowing too much_.

Jack glanced at The Master like he’d only just remembered the two weren’t alone. Whilst the waiter arrived with their plates, Theta gazed out at the other restaurant-goers – the giggling teens and the older couples. Her engagement with this conversation was clearly over. The Master took the opportunity to create a distraction.

“So, what’s your deal? Sticking in this century for a bit?” he asked Jack.

*

The nature of time travel, the frustration with it, was that you could never tell other time travellers too much.

Even The Doctor didn’t know how their timelines were converging at this point, nor where they would diverge to. Fortunately, though, they never struggled for conversation. Recommendations for planets, future plans, those discussions came easy.

Theta could wax poetic for hours about the best spots for beauty, for extraordinary life, or uniqueness, and so she did. Jack seemed to take a shine to The Master’s stories, though. The ones which recommended cities and planets for mischief, or great partying or thievery, and he could almost feel Theta stomping her foot indignantly with every joke himself and Jack shared.

He fought down the wave of encroaching fear, as his plate was cleared. This was domestic. _Good_ , almost. Knowing they weren’t paying took the edge off a little, but it wracked him with a feeling of distinct uncertainty. _Strangeness_.

They were practically a couples’ date with an old friend.

Panic rose up in him, drums getting louder, chest getting tighter. He tried to clench his jaw, breathe deep, but nothing helped. It sounded underwater, when Theta called his name. Like it didn’t feel real. His mind was back on a flattened Gallifrey, to his worst fears in front of him, the smell of his own flesh burning. Hunger. Loneliness. Finding Theta’s body, broken, left to rot in a jail cell.

Fuck.

He jumped as a foot met his own under the table, dragging him back to an underwhelming reality, in a hotel restaurant. He struggled to control his breathing, to smile away the concerned faces looking back at him. His fingers gripped the tablecloth, the texture of the fabric helping to ground him.

“I think we’ll get going. Plenty of universe to see!” Theta announced, dumping her napkin heavily onto her place. “Right, Koschei?”

It took a bump at his mind, a distant ‘ _contact_ ’ for his feet to feel the carpet again, to drop the tablecloth he was clenching in his fist.

“Right!”

Oh, Rassilion.

Everything steadily moved on, the bill arrived and was charged to Jack’s room, Theta completely oblivious to the fact that the room would never be paid. Whilst she insisted on finding money to pay Jack back, The Master finally found himself on the end of one of Captain Jack’s distinctive winks.

“You can buy next time.”

“But the drinks?”

“Taken care of.”

He kissed The Doctor on the cheek, before engulfing her in a hug which threatened to lift her off the ground. She huffed as he released her, eyes welling up with tears which didn’t come from being squeezed within an inch of her life.

“You’ve got my number, right? It hasn’t changed.”

“I’ll call.” Jack promised.

The Master could see the regret in his face. That he never would.

They’d meet again, though. People like them always did.

He’d lost focus again, as Jack took Theta aside for a moment. The taller man was talking seriously, Theta’s face unusually expressionless as she listened. He could eavesdrop, but The Master felt sure he’d just be _irritated_ by whatever he heard. It wasn’t his business.

Then, suddenly, Jack was coming towards him with a bear hug, stopping just a second short with a laugh at The Master’s grimace.

“Nice to meet you again under such good circumstances, pretty boy.”

“Right.”

The Master shook his hand, and just like that they were leaving the hotel via the garden and pools, seeing the club area in disconcerting daylight. As Jack marched through the front door, they heard a receptionist shouting after him. A commotion was followed by the ‘whoosh’ of a teleport, and they’d never see him again.

Both Time Lords picked up their pace, hearing the running and shouting of staff in the lobby behind them. No one was chasing them, yet.

They were just a couple of tourists, walking fast. No crime here.

“That’s not going to be a pretty bill,” Theta frowned.

“He’ll never pay it.”

To his surprise, she laughed.

By the time the blue of the TARDIS was in sight, and they were still blessedly unpursued. To his surprise, Theta grabbed his arm, and diverted her course around the ship, heading for an abandoned bar area. Even here, it seemed breakfast was too early for cocktails.

The pair settled in silence, looking out over the pools and bars which sprawled out across the gardens of the hotel. They were the only people out here, not even staff cleaning. The air was still chilly, the morning sun too weak to warm the atmosphere.

The back of the TARDIS stood out against the artificial landscaping, her light pulsing gently, telling The Doctor she was there.

“That was fun.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“I didn’t mean it… you know. About you _mothering_ them. I just wish you didn’t worry.”

“Is that an apology?”

He hummed, watching a lone tourist open their blinds a few floors up.

“I’m calling it an apology!”

Suddenly Theta was on her feet, excitement renewed, a bounce in her step as she walked back to the TARDIS. He was left to play catchup with a much more elegant powerwalk.

“It wasn’t!” he called.

“Can’t hear you!”

Rassilion, her _skipping_ was embarrassing.

When he stepped through the TARDIS doors the _fam_ were already assembled, apparently both ravenous and raring for an adventure.

“Right! Want to go and get some breakfast?”

“Please!” Graham groaned.

Ryan agreed, and Theta began her stupid dance around the console, piloting the TARDIS appallingly as usual. At least Yaz acknowledged his presence, giving him a tight wave, abruptly interrupted as the ship lurched to the side. Whilst the humans clung to columns, he begrudgingly strode over to the console, taking control of the stabilisers she’d opted to ignore. He caught her smiling, as she rushed between instruments.

*

Minutes later, they were stood on the ridge of ancient ruins, watching over a market town barely ten years free from a civil war. The atmosphere was electric, the sky a hot orange, the mud and sand a deep russet, no doubt sticking to their boots. A familiar enough planet, with a recovering, bipedal population.

The humans were shopping, mingling, having fun. The market was busy and had a tone of playfulness. No one here seemed to be starving, desperate to sell their wares. The food stalls were interspersed with craftsmen, luxury goods, art, and clothes. Another day, he might shop here.

Neither of them felt like braving the crowds, though.

It was easier to keep track of everyone from here, The Doctor had reasoned.

“What did you make of Jack?”

“I think your taste in humans is improving, marginally.”

She laughed at that.

“I couldn’t figure out why he made me so… uncomfortable.”

“Ah, he has that effect on people.”

“Clearly.”

“He’s immortal.” Theta suddenly sounded a little choked up. “Shouldn’t be, but he is.”

Right. A hint. To leave that alone.

“At least he understands, then.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

The regret in her voice was unmistakeable, as distinct as if it was transmitted through their bond.

_When did immortality started to feel like a burden?_ he wondered.

Before or after he’d told her _everything_?

“Do you wish that I had never told you?” He asked, suddenly. “About the Timeless Child?”

He was screwing it up. He knew he was. This could be a nice moment.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

The words were leaving his mouth without permission. Rage blinding him once again. The need to _pick a wound_ like he had as a child. He’d never grown out of that.

“You have to. It’ll drive you crazy if you don’t.”

The twinge of mania in his voice was hard to disguise. Rassillion. He was making her sad. Why was he trying to make her _sad?_

It felt like instinct, to upset her. A familiar dance.

He wasn’t enjoying it this time.

“I just want a nice day out, with my friends.” She turned to face him, her gaze finally broken from the humans below. “Why do you have to ruin that, hm?”

“I just want to talk. We have to discuss this, Doctor.”

Too late. Classic Master. Ruining things just when they start to get good.

She was turning on him. He could feel it.

“Why are you so afraid of enjoying yourself? Of letting me enjoy myself? Can’t you live in the moment for one _damn day?_ ”

No, fuck this. He wasn’t taking _this._

“Why are you so determined to make me have _fun?_ To _forget_? I gave you your answers, like them or not. You can’t run forever! Pretending you _don’t_ leave a mark on the universe! On other people!

“You play at being a tour guide, when we were meant for so much more. You’re so powerful, you will live for so long, do so much. And you bind yourself to Earth, to humans. You need to be among _equals._ You always want an enemy! For everything to be _my fault_. I’m not your opposite, Doctor. I’m just the same as you.”

She turned to face him, before changing her mind. He wanted argument, fire, and she was just taking it. Silent, unresponsive. _Shout back at me!_ He wanted to scream. _Make me feel normal!_

Theta didn’t say a word. He caught the tremble of her chin.

“At least you’ll have Jack, when I run out of regenerations. I’m surprised you even bother with me, now you’ve got a new _time traveller boy toy_.”

“Give it a rest!”

There was no conviction in her reply. Those tears tracks had returned to her cheeks. This body of hers was an angry crier, and he hated it.

“I always wanted you,” she admitted. “But you were never there. You left.”

“ _I_ left? How many times have you left me for dead? Betrayed me?”

She had the decency to look sheepish, at least. Her hands were clenched in front of her. She took a moment to think.

“I wish you would try.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I miss you.”

“I’ll never be perfect enough for you.”

Theta was stoic, barely reacting to his words before she turned back to watch her companions. She moved, climbed up to stand on the crumbling brick wall of the old battlement. He stepped up uncertainly to join her, ignoring her extended hand in favour of just _hoping_ the old brick wouldn’t give way.

They looked out over the landscape. The people. Alive. Breathing. Going about the normal highs and lows of their days. Shopping bags. Running children. Bartering. The colours and smells here were vibrant. Bright clothes, giant woks of food cooking, flowers poking out of bags and cradled in elbows, clutched in hands of couples.

Theta waved at Yaz, looking up at them in the distance ahead of them. The human waved back, before returning to the market trader she was chatting to. The companions seemed to be having a good time, choosing out flowers and trying foods. The three of them were bickering, too. It had taken him a while to understand that their bickering actually meant ‘I love you’.

It wasn’t a crazy way to show affection, he supposed.

Certainly not compared to what he did for Theta. Did _to_ Theta.

They had a different kind of love, though. It which warranted a more… passionate kind of conflict.

He wished their words weren’t weapons. Wished the length of their relationship could be a point of pride, rather than contention. The way these humans, with their short lifespans and shorter relationships, could laugh and trust, it made his chest burn. Which one was that? Which feeling? ‘Jealousy’, maybe. ‘Anger’? Something around there.

Theta seemed to be in a state of melancholy, still and meditative as she stared out over the market. Her movement caught his eye.

He caught the humans staring, and Koschei waved alongside her, hesitantly. He was sure they would only be able to see their distinctive silhouettes. Their coats barely moving in the pleasant breeze, breaking the heat of the desert.

He caught Yaz watching a little too long.

“I never meant to flirt with Yaz, by the way. I just wanted to wind you up.”

“I think she quite enjoyed it.”

Theta spoke through a tight grimace, still squinting to watch her companions. Clearly, he’d succeeded in pissing her off.

Just about the only thing he could succeed at lately.

“Just a game.” He reminded her softly. His voice caught, broke. He cringed.

“I’m sick of games.”

“I don’t know how else to make you talk to me. You just run off, unless I play games.”

Her hand found his, hanging limp at his side, and he realised his own fingers were trembling. She squeezed them.

“Be honest with me. You don’t have to be perfect. I just need to know what’s going on inside your head.”

It was funny. They had the perfect way to show each other what they were thinking, to transcend language entirely, and yet they struggled so phenomenally.

Too much ego. It would always be their downfall.

Especially his. He could never hide it as well as The Doctor, allow himself to be humbled by new things. _Learn and be wrong_.

He couldn’t quash the need to self-protect, guard himself. He’d learn, though.

It felt like no time at all before her companions were trudging up the hill, all excited chatter even as they sweated and struggled with the steep climb.

“I dunno how you wear those big coats all the time,” Ryan grumbled. “It’s bloody boiling here.”

“Better biology!”

The Doctor’s chipper tone fell flat, and The Master found himself heading back through the blue doors of the ship, just to avoid it.

If Graham detected the tension between the two Time Lords, he didn’t address it, scrambling his way up the hill after his grandson.

“Thought we could eat all this inside!”

Graham and Ryan were holding stacks of food containers from the market, laying them out on the floor of the TARDIS.

“We’re got a kitchen…”

The Master was ignored, as Theta had already bounded over to them, sitting cross-legged on the ground and swiping a finger through various dishes, sniffing things.

“All safe?”

“Yep!” She reassured Yaz.

“We figured since you two didn’t fancy coming down to try the food, we’d bring it back!”

“Thanks fam! It’s awfully kind of you.”

The Master struggled not to roll his eyes. Their earlier conversation was still replaying through his head. Honesty. Trust. All that shit.

He could probably manage that, right? After everything else he’d done – saving her arse from Judoon prison, learning to care about these humans, it seemed possible. Surely. What was left to lose?

Around him, The Fam were laughing. Sharing in-jokes. He could tolerate this. It could feel like a type of _home_.

The food, damn it, was pretty good. They shared, armed only with disposable forks, with eating decorum which would have gotten them kicked out of The Academy. Good. He thought they’d bought mountains too much to eat, until the last box was suddenly empty. They all sat on the floor for a moment, full.

Graham and Ryan were discussing earth foods similar to what they’d eaten, and Theta was absentmindedly playing with her sonic screwdriver. She wouldn’t look up at him, even as they were sat opposite each other.

Yaz had brought back bunches of flowers in her arms, and she jumped up to weave them all over the TARDIS console. Very cute, pretty, but it would make piloting an absolute bitch. Though Theta’s driving couldn’t get much worse, he supposed. She tried hopelessly to help Yaz, trying to mimic the human girl’s weaving, but ending up mainly getting in the way. She accepted defeat with a ridiculously oversized blue flower shoved behind her ear. The thing was almost the size of her face but watching her try not to knock it off her head (just to keep Yaz grinning) was endearing, he had to admit.

Eventually, the five of them all ended up with flower heads adorning them in some way. The Master put his through a buttonhole. Far less silly. In protest, Yaz shoved yet another yellow blossom into his quaffed hair.

An uneventful day, the group seemed to decide, but still enough to chat about forever. The Master couldn’t believe how long they’d sat on that floor, just chatting. Theta was trying to join in, makes jokes, but he could tell her hearts weren’t in it.

Ah. He had an idea.

_Contact._

_What?_

Always polite, Theta. Still, what he did next wasn’t polite.

_Here is what’s going on inside my head. Since you wanted to know._

He sent her memories.

Of her bent over her own desk at The Academy, trailing fingers in the library and disguising bitemarks as they dressed together in the morning. The scandal. The sheer excitement, the youthful _need_ of it all.

Missy! Oh, Missy was fun. A new perspective, certainly. More distinguished, all that _experience_ to benefit from. The romantic nights, the painful nights, the teasing… all of it. He sent the memories straight to her.

_Master!_

Oh, that name. Hard to wring from her lips, but he loved it.

_You did ask._

She ignored him.

He sent another. Her current body, spread out beneath him, slick with sweat, lips bruised, groaning with each thrust he penetrated her with.

_We did used to have fun, you know. We could again_.

She slammed the door to her mind, throwing him back to reality.

Her eyes were fixed on him, without a shred of disgust. In fact, he saw a new feeling painted across this expressive face of hers.

Lust.

In the room, Yaz was speaking. The other Time Lord looked shocked as she realised she was being shown something, and The Master licked his lips.

“I got this for my Nani! Is it okay if I bring it back?”

The human was holding a thin gold pendant between her fingers, the gemstone inside it shifting prettily between colours. Strictly speaking, it should never find its way to earth. Theta was clearly preoccupied though, blushed face hidden behind a curtain of blonde hair, as she started clearing the takeout containers off the TARDIS floor.

“Sure! Are you guys up for a trip home now?”

*

Dropping the humans off took mere seconds. Maybe because they knew they’d see The Doctor again in a few days, or perhaps because they were fleeing the sudden tense atmosphere inside the time ship.

The Master didn’t even watch them leave, making the ship dematerialise the second Theta had closed the doors. The shudder of entering the time vortex disguised the sound of her footsteps. When his hands left the controls, she was standing close enough that he could smell her conditioner. He turned to face her, the electricity running through their bond dialling up a few Amps, until he felt like the current would kill them.

“We’re not meant to do this,” Theta breathed, so close he couldn’t even focus on those beautiful, intense eyes of hers.

“But _we_ do. Again, and again.”

He brought one hand to cup her jaw, fingers resting on her temple. She didn’t back away.

“We’ve never exactly been sticklers for the rules, darling.”

It was agonisingly slow, how she brought her lips to his. Leaving room to back out. For him to change his mind. For her to come to her senses, and pretend this never happened.

Neither of them backed out.

Their lips met, dried out from the desert they’d been standing in. He couldn’t bring himself to care. It had been so long since he’d touched anyone. Since he’d touched _her_. There would always be strangers, groupies begging for power or safety, clubgoers whose heads turned for this pretty face. But none of them could be supplements for her.

He didn’t even try.

They both groaned as she took control, backing him against the console. Yaz’s flowers brushed up against his back, cushioning the hard instruments which dug into his ass and spine. The bruises would be worth it. The Doctor moaned into his mouth.

“I want this,” she prompted, whispering against his mouth, waiting for his approval.

“Please.”

She led the way to her room, the pair of them moving in silent reverence, completing a pilgrimage. He held her hand, when she held it out.

When he’d slept in her room before, it had felt like an invasion of her personal space. And he’d liked it. Now, the bedroom was more sacred. He forced down the sense of apprehension being in here evoked – the seriousness and the intimidation of _actually doing this_. He knew her well enough to trust that he was the only guest she’d had in here – at least in this incarnation. It barely eased his nerves, though. New body, new expectations. A fragile bond of trust he could snap in seconds, the intrusion of being on her ship, the deck stacked in her favour if things went south. It was enough to kill his arousal. Almost.

She was watching him with serious eyes, almost concerned.

_Get it together, Master._

He moved to unbutton his own suit, cursing layer after layer as he peeled it off. The Doctor smirked, _ping_ -ing off her own suspenders with childish delight. He couldn’t help laughing at her, even as he pulled his own clothes off with minimal flourish.

It took seconds for her to get her shirt and undershirt off, the cotton hitting the ground before his waistcoat.

“Easier than all that _drama_ ,” she teased, moving on to her trouser button.

The Master caught her hands, resisting the urge to huff condescendingly at her. He sunk to his knees, taking both of them by surprise. Eyelet by eyelet, he undid her boots, until she could step out of them with ease. He treated the leather with more respect than the it had ever received at the hands of its owner, certainly. She watched him, mesmerised, steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder as she stepped out of the shoes.

In the moment, he had no idea what it meant. The Doctor’s eyes grew glassy, and she knelt to mirror him on the carpet, suddenly kissing him so hard he winced at the clashing of their teeth.

There, knelt like they were praying, her fingers nimbly found the buttons of his shirt.

Once they were shirtless, lips swollen, Theta offered him her hand. Not to help him up, per se, but so they could stand together. It was awkward, fumbling, to remove their own trousers and socks, but the moment was forgotten as soon as it was over.

She was in nothing but underwear in front of him. He suddenly wanted brighter lights than the dim bedroom lighting the TARDIS provided, an easier way to stare at the Time Lord opposite him.

She had curves this time. Gently sloping hips that he wanted to grab, to pull her closer to him, trail his fingers up and down the indent of her waist. Toned legs from all that damn running, her chest shuddering with each breath she took. She was a little more nervous than him. Usually was, he’d noticed.

For the millionth time, he cursed the prudish, shameful creed of Gallifreyan high society. Some dark part of him liked it, stalking over to her like a predator, the way she didn’t quite feel comfortable staring at his naked body while he drank hers in. Not yet.

He’d catch her staring later, he was sure. In the shower, or when she thought him to be asleep. She liked this body. He could smell her arousal, sense the quickening of her heartbeat. Most of all, he could feel it. The lust and enrapturement which overtook both of them, blurring the rest of the room, slowing time.

It was without his permission that his hands found her waist, trailing down to grip her hipbones, guiding her backwards the few feet towards her bed. He kissed her gently before he pushed her down, sinking with her as she sat on the edge of the mattress. He encouraged her knees apart tenderly, her thighs spread on the bed making him want to bite colourful bruises into them. He held out, though.

Bigger, better, gentler plans.

“Jack would be surprised,” she tried to joke, nervousness distorting her attempt at a laugh.

Fucking hell, Theta.

“Please don’t mention Jack while I’m between your legs.”

“Sorry.”

She sounded so scared, so dejected, he quite sincerely regretting snapping at her.

“I’m only teasing.”

His hands stroked her inner thighs, each finger stroke gentle, reverent. Her hands were awkwardly at her side, as she sat above him. He leant her back on the bed, waiting until she was reclining to lift her closer to his face, a show of strength which made her gasp. He was quite proud of that. He turned a blind eye to her hunched shoulders, her clenched fists, telltale signs she didn’t know this body as well as she wanted to.

“Are you sure you–”

She cut herself off with a whimper as his tongue found her cunt, teasing her with a strong lick before he rested his chin on her pubic mound, his beard lightly irritating the sensitive skin.

He knew she no longer cared about his answer, watching her slowly open her eyes to meet his, unsure, like maybe she’d done something wrong.

“Yes. I am. Are _you_ sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sure? Because you seem nervous.”

Her fear was gone. Arguing with him was always a great source of comfort, he supposed.

“I am completely fine. Sure. Whatever.”

“So you _do_ want this?”

His made sure she could feel the movement of his jaw as he spoke, brushing against her, just above where she wanted him to be. He could feel the way she was forcing her hips still, trying not to clench or rock, giving no indicators how much she really needed him. It was okay.

He’d loved this as Missy – needed it, even. The Doctor had always been more than obliging to weather jaw cramp for him. It was an unusual privilege of regeneration, he supposed, to be able to switch places like this.

“Yes.” Her tone was now one of irritation, hiding her breathlessness.

“Sure?”

“Yes!”

One of her feet left the bed, gently kicking at his buttock. His fixed his mouth against her as he chuckled, giving her clit a _hint_ of the suction she wanted.

“Yes, what?”

“Come off it.”

“I’m deathly, deathly serious, Doctor.”

She paused for a moment. He was poised to pinch the inside of her bare thigh for emphasis, when he heard it.

Rassilion, she was going to kill him.

“Please, Master.”

He held her hand as he went down on her, feeling their bond pounding through his head from the extra contact. It was overwhelming, how intensely she felt in his body. He was her first, in this body. She was still learning.

Theta’s once-trembling hand was now bruisingly strong in his, clenching harder and harder around his palm as his mouth worked.

*

Once The Master had eaten her out to orgasm, he had fucked her face down into the bed, then flipped her onto her back until he finally came inside her. It was a feat to hold out as long as he did, her face was so expressive, scrunching up as she whimpered, mouth falling open, and in facing one another he could see every tiny micro-expression. Her hands travelled up and down his body, clenching and unclenching, finally finding purpose on her own clit.

“Gonna cum,” she’d managed to gasp, and he finally grunted his approval as

“Look at me.”

She managed to open her eyes just for a second, meeting his own deep brown, before they both groaned. He managed a couple more strokes before letting himself fall down on top of her. After a moment of recovery, she laughed, and shoved him off her. He missed her warmth, but conceded, rolling onto the mattress beside her. She brought a hand to weave into the hair of his chest, propping her head on his shoulder for a moment.

It was strange. He’d been in this bed alone, never even considered what his future self might use it for. The universe worked mysteriously.

Her breathing was back to a steady, slow pace. It had always calmed him, the way she breathed when she was calm. As she changed there would be slight alterations in the pace of her chest moving up and down, but it was always slower than his own. Body irrespective, that steady pattern calmed him, distracted him from the storm raging in his head. An oasis in the desert.

The universe was infinite, multiplied by the infinity of time. It would make sense that the pair of them could never met once they’d fled the Time War, and yet here they were. A proclivity for trouble and a proclivity for each other would always bring them together. It was like gravity, or magnetism. They’d go decades, centuries, and fall back into the same fights, or the same bed. He’d thought that maybe, when he betrayed her just one too many times, it would be the end. That maybe Missy was the last time they’d share sheets and body heat, feel sweat on sweat and their double-pulses race together.

But she’d forgiven him. Again.

He could almost forgive himself, seeing how she looked at him. Dust himself off and start back on the road to _Goodness_ that Missy had stumbled onto. He wondered if he’d feel different tomorrow, in daylight, dealing with yet more of her companions or habitual carelessness. He hoped he wouldn’t, strangely. Maybe conviction was within reach, for once. It would be nice.

“Mhm. I want a bath,” Theta’s sleepy voice brought him back to the room.

Away from the thoughts he was usually too keyed up to face.

Sex always made him ready to sleep. Tragically, a good old fashioned orgasm (or two, he thought smugly) seemed to have the opposite effect on Theta. He could have fallen asleep on the spot, but he forced himself to sit up, the Time Lord laid out on his chest protesting.

“You need one.”

*

Unlike last time, when she’d been injured weeks ago, he had no hesitation climbing into the bath with Theta.

Hormones and the time had made her an awful lot more comfortable with their nakedness, and she rather seemed to be enjoying it now. He caught her watching as he moved around the en suite, gathering towels and products, adding to the scarce selection she had strewn beside the tub.

Once in the water they’d washed their hair, dunking it under the water and making each other laugh at the awkwardness of being in such a confined tub, before settling. Theta wound up settled between his spread legs, her torso pressing down on his, weight alleviated by the water. It was comfortable. Without even thinking, he’d reached for a bottle of conditioner.

Her eyes had closed at the feeling of him methodically rubbing conditioner into the lengths of her hair, at his fingers tugging gently at the strands, periodically drifting back to the roots to massage her scalp. He almost thought she’d fallen asleep on him, between her sighs of approval.

_Contact._

_Contact._

_You gonna stay with me, Koschei?_

His hands settled on her shoulders, thumbs moving to rub into her shoulder muscles before she brushed them off her, leaning away from him.

He stayed silent.

She turned in the bath, carefully avoiding the taps to sit at the other end, facing him. Under observation, he felt a little threatened, his arms posed in a way he hoped was both casual and attractive. Sexy. Powerful. He was overthinking it. Damn it, he should be too old, too wise, for this kind of insecurity. But she brought it out in him.

“Well?”

Her face was red from the heat of the bath, product-laden hair slicked down her neck, and he still wanted to take her again, try and wring a scream out of her in the heat of the undersized tub. Her legs were inside his, smooth skin moving slightly against his own as she fidgeted to find a comfortable position. The water was clear, tinged blue from whatever oils he’d chucked in, and he could see the curves of their calf muscles against each other under the surface. Could he stay here forever? If it meant evenings like this? Days like the beach planet? Markets and seeing the _wonder in the universe_ , burdened by caring deeply about a far less sturdy group of human dependents?

For the first time since they were kids, it really seemed like a good deal.

Ah, she was watching him.

“If you’re sure you can handle me.”

A smile lit up her expression, starting at her eyes until every part of her face seemed involved, and he caught himself grinning back. So much between them, and she would trust him at his word. The most bizarre part was that he didn’t feel compelled to make her regret it.

“I’m fairly sure I can,” she promised. “Managed it so far, haven’t I?”

Ah, Theta.

_Barely, my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been wonderful to write, and every single person who left kudos or a comment here: I love you. This last chapter took a little longer to write, since it’s about three times longer than normal, but I hope the ending felt okay.   
> There’s an awful lot left of this to Unpack, so I’ve started on a sequel. I’ll leave you with a teaser. Thank you all so much for reading! 
> 
> Sequel Teaser:  
> She always wanted to stretch her legs, before an adventure. He could never figure out why before, but suddenly he got it. As the TARDIS materialised in a dingy Sheffield side road, he would need some mental distance from the place he was at right now. Lest he break out the PDA.  
> Suddenly, the world went numb. He stopped, dizzy, as Theta carried on ahead of him.   
> Fuck.  
> The pull of the Cyberium inside him usually felt like a distant memory. A thousand miles away. He could forget it was there. Like the drums, or the guilt. He could bury it.   
> But suddenly, stepping out of the TARDIS, it felt white hot again. Its power over his mind returned, and he knew then and there this had the power to drive him insane. (Again. But who was counting?)  
> The Master felt a surge through their bond. Here feelings were no longer contentment and a warm glow, which made his stomach tight with want. Now, it was fear. So intense he felt sick, adrenaline pulsing through his veins.   
> When his eyes would focus again he sought out Theta’s mussed up hair, spotting her frozen just forty feet ahead,  
> Towering over her, was a monster of his own creation. A plan which never should have gotten that far. He could feel the beating of her hearts through their connection, her echoes of pain and anxiety swelling alongside his own.  
> Three of them. Their blank, expressionless faces held in a grim death mask for a race best left out of existence.   
> Here, on Earth, he stared down his CyberMasters.


End file.
